Mobile Suit Gundam: Deikun's Army
by Peloponnese
Summary: Solomon has fallen, but Zeon is not finished yet. One last gamble has forced the Federation to hesitate, and Gihren is not about to waste his chance-both to win the war, and the throne. Kycilia's best, however, are not through yet. Nor is the White Base.
1. Zeon's Gamble

_Having been reading Fanfiction for the past several years, it is about time that I put one up myself. This is my first real attempt, my unpublished fix-fic notwithstanding. If you have not seen the original Mobile Suit Gundam, this will make no sense to you. For those of you who have, however, this fic will make for an interesting deviation from the final episodes._

_Pointless Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam. Unfortunately.  
_

/**/

Bright Noa was, to put it bluntly, out of ideas. The officer candidate-turned-commander of the Earth Federation's most advanced warship had found himself in numerous, if not innumerable, situations that called for difficult decisions on a moment's notice, most of which had fallen upon him during the past three months alone. Yet despite these trials, Bright had fulfilled his duty as the ranking officer of the _White Base_ without regret, knowing that even the sacrifices could be borne when the alternative was the dominion of the Principality of Zeon.

Now that that scenario was no longer simply an alternative, but rather unalterable _fact_, Commander Bright's worldview had suffered a severe blow.

The rest of the EFSF fleet, speeding toward L3 in a desperate attempt to outrace the end of General Revil's peace negotiations with Great Sovereign Degwin Zabi, was unaware of this fact, fortunately. The commanders that Revil had placed in charge of the fleet were aware only of what was now common knowledge, thanks to Supreme Commander Gihren Zabi's propaganda announcement two days before: that a task force of Zeon ships had used the Battle of Solomon as a distraction, during which it had launched its own assault on the Federation stronghold of Luna II and the half-constructed (and still heavily-damaged) colony of Green Noa, the only habitable cylinder of Side 7. According to Gihren's announcement, Green Noa had been dropped on Earth, in direct violation of the Antarctic Treaty; this much had already been confirmed, though the status of the target, Jaburo, was still a mystery. Moreover, Gihren had claimed that the fortress of Luna II had been captured, and that it would be the next object to fall on the planet; the possibility of damaged communications systems on Luna II made this impossible to confirm without first-hand observation, since the garrison would not respond to the fleet's hails. General Revil had taken no chances, sending the majority of his fleet to L3 in order to contest any attempted deceleration of Luna II, while he and a small flotilla of support vessels reported to a point chosen by Great Sovereign Degwin to conduct peace negotiations that had a fair chance of failing. It had been Revil's hope that the fleet could determine the threat of Luna II before the talks could fall through. However, the _White Base_ crew had quickly learned that those talks had had no chance of a long proceeding at all. Within a day, they were over.

No one knew exactly how. The only agreed-upon fact between the strong Newtypes aboard the ship was that they had ended violently, and that in their wake General Revil and his entourage—and even, insisted Amuro Ray, the Great Sovereign of Zeon—had been erased from existence. Just as contact between L3 and L5, the Sea of Solomon, had been impossible, there had been no means of breaking through the Minovsky particle field drifting in the fleet's wake to make contact with the negotiation location, placed halfway between Solomon and the fortress of A Baoa Qu orbiting L2. Laser communications, of course, were a very poor option compared to tried and true radio waves; until such communications could be restored to General Revil's flagship, then, Bright had ordered that the news not spread beyond his ship, as there was no reason to alarm the fleet without confirmation, and Revil's final orders remained active regardless. Even so, without General Revil's celebrated mind, the remaining high command at Jaburo (or what was left of it) simply had no means of countering the likes of Gihren and Kycilia Zabi. With the threat of a third drop operation literally hanging over their heads, they would quickly give up the fight. The war would be over; Gihren Zabi would rule over the Earth Sphere. Sieg Zeon.

Which returned Bright Noa to his dilemma. He was a Federation officer to the core, an Earth-born man with his own share of prejudices regarding the Spacenoids—at least, before he began acting as commander to Spacenoids aboard the _White Base_. And although his opinion of space colonists had certainly changed, Bright was still very loyal to the Federation cause; to him, Zeon remained firmly the enemy. No matter the faults of the Earth Federation, it had been Zakus, not GMs, that had gassed Sides 1, 2, and 4.

Beyond the moral objections to living under Zeon rule, there also were numerous practical reasons to worry. The _White Base_ and its mobile suits had seen action in several important campaigns over the past three months, and had accumulated not only a suitable reputation to match, but a kill count to back it up. Gihren and Kycilia Zabi could hardly be expected to forget that the _White Base_ had been responsible for the death of Captain Garma Zabi, their youngest brother, and that the teams that had been sent to gain revenge had also been destroyed or badly mauled—depriving Zeon of some very experienced aces. The _White Base_ had furthermore taken part in Operation Odessa, and the Gundam had been instrumental in routing Char Aznable's infiltration team at Jaburo; even the three children on board had done their part to foil the Zeon captain's attempt to sabotage the mass-production of the Federation's new mobile suits. As if this record were not enough to send the _White Base_ crew before a Zeon firing squad, the blood of Vice-Admiral Dozle Zabi, the commander of space fortress Solomon, was also on the crew's hands, thanks to the efforts of Amuro Ray and Sleggar Law. The _White Base_ represented the deaths of numerous Zeon notables and the defeat of many of their plans, and Gihren Zabi, to say nothing of Kycilia, would happily take advantage of an opportunity to humiliate the Federation's remnants by doing away with such a troublesome lot.

Simply put, Bright Noa's lack of ideas was putting his crew in deadly peril, and the added pressure wasn't helping.

For that reason, as he dressed in his cabin before taking over his shift, the commander resolved to call the notable crew members to the bridge for an open forum. As he stepped out into the corridor and made his way toward the bridge, Bright continued to sort the situation through his mind, but with a small bit of optimism: Since most of the crew was composed of former civilians, there might be several ideas that might occur to them that would not occur to a military-trained man such as himself. Hoping that this was indeed the case, Bright let go of the handgrip and entered the lift to take him to the bridge, tapping his foot with impatience as he waited. Upon disembarking, he quickly floated to his captain's seat and activated the ship-wide PA system. "All pilots, report to the bridge."

/**/

News of the Solar Ray's activation reached Granada immediately after the fact, due to Kycilia's use of observers keeping an eye on the movements of A Baoa Qu and Side 3 during her term as the lunar city's commander. The target, however, as well as the weapon's effectiveness, had been impossible to ascertain, and the rear admiral had been quick to contact A Baoa Qu to learn the results of the firing for herself. The control room supervisor was unhelpful, and Gihren himself was "indisposed"; probably celebrating with the help of that whore Cecilia, Kycilia guessed. She promised to contact the fortress again the next day, and assured the supervisor that she would accept nothing less than direct contact with her brother at that time, which the man promised to pass on to the supreme commander. After that, the woman was left with little to do but contemplate the state of the war, and the sudden possibility that Zeon, after losing two of its ruling family and suffering several recent crushing defeats, might actually have reclaimed the conflict's momentum.

The rear admiral, therefore, passed the day in a state of self-congratulation while daydreaming of a victorious Zeon. She had reason to be proud: Operation British II, which had dropped Side 7's Green Noa onto Earth, had been her idea. A very small task force had been assigned to the task of battling the Federation garrison at Luna II as a diversion, while another force took the opportunity to drop the colony onto the planet. Although focusing her attention on this plan (as well as the potential threat posed by the Federation's possible Newtype Corps) had distracted Kycilia so badly that the EFSF had been allowed to regroup almost unopposed, resulting in the devastating Battle of Solomon, the rear admiral could only see the loss of the space fortress as a blessing in disguise, as it in turn distracted the Federation from the dangers posed by a possible second colony drop. Indeed, the focusing of the EFSF on L5 had placed virtually all of the Federation fleet _days_ away from L3, meaning that the diversion at Luna II had been far more effective than initially planned; Gihren was certainly lying when he claimed that Luna II was under Zeon control, but it would be many months before it could become a threat in space again—by which time, it was likely that the war would be over.

The use of the Solar Ray, therefore, was confusingly unnecessary. Gihren was not known for wasting military resources—unless one counted his use of inefficient but powerful weapons as opposed to less-powerful mass-produced models—so the use of this over-the-top laser cannon had to have had some purpose, as far as the admiral was concerned. The fact that he hadn't made this target public immediately after firing only made Kycilia nervous, as it indicated that the target's destruction served Zeon far less than it served _Gihren_, and therefore either did not aid or possibly even undermined his sister. Of course, the rear admiral considered, it could also mean that the weapon had failed, and that Gihren refused to publicize an attack on a target that was obviously still intact. In the latter case, the Solar Ray's shot could work to her advantage as a means of embarrassing her brother. Even as she considered it, though, Kycilia refused to get her hopes up. She would act only when she knew for certain what her brother had planned.

Upon contacting A Baoa Qu the next day, therefore, Kycilia did not mince words. Once Gihren's face appeared on her monitor, the woman wasted no time with pleasantries. "Brother, I refuse to believe that there was anything remotely within range of L2 that required your fantastic cannon to solve. What were you firing at?"

Gihren scoffed. "Won't you bother to begin with 'Hello'? I thought Father raised you better than that."

"I want answers, Gihren."

The supreme commander sighed. "Impatient as always," he muttered. "If you want so badly to know, you'd best join me here at A Baoa Qu. We have the data from the Solar Ray, as well as confirmation reports regarding Jaburo. Operation British II was not as accurate as planned, but even so, Zeon now has the upper hand. I hope to take advantage of our new-found momentum; we will need to coordinate more attacks for the very near future. How soon can you arrive?"

Kycilia narrowed her eyes. "I'm leaving immediately. Expect me shortly."

Gihren smiled. "I'll do that."

/**/

Captain Char Aznable had no great love for retreats and withdrawals. It irritated him even more that, in this case, he hadn't even been forced from the battlefield by a superior opponent, but was instead withdrawing of his own volition. But after the strange pressure he had felt, he didn't dare to continue any operation without the confirmation of his superior officer. When Lalah Sune nearly became epileptic over the same pressure, the captain decided to obtain those orders personally, and set course for Granada.

There was obviously reason to worry. Whatever had occurred, it had been Earth-shattering and terrifying enough to cause an extreme Newtype reaction; both he and Lalah had had similar reactions to the latest colony drop, but at least that had been explained. Char knew also that it would be exceptionally unwise to continue operating the Elmeth with an unstable pilot, and Lalah, having suffered two breakdowns in a week, clearly needed a rest. And Char would not allow the threat of Kycilia's anger prevent him from giving Lalah the rest she needed.

Standing on the bridge of the _Zanzibar_, which acted as flagship for the 300th Independent ("Newtype") Corps, the masked man observed as the lunar city of Granada appeared on the horizon. "Once we enter communications range, alert the command center of our arrival. I don't doubt that Her Excellency will want to learn of our coming as soon as possible."

Upon being given confirmation of this order, Char turned away from the bridge window and strode (as well as one can stride in the moon's lessened gravity) through the door and off of the bridge, grabbing the nearest handgrip to take him to his quarters. As he suspected, Lalah was waiting for him outside the door, frowning in worry. Char smiled reassuringly as he let go of the handgrip, drifting to his cabin door and entering the pass code. "We're almost to Granada," the captain said, motioning for the ensign to enter. Following her inside and closing the door, Char added, "I'm sure Kycilia won't be happy to see us so far from the fight at L5, but after all that's happened, I'm sure she'll understand."

Lalah nodded, but her frown deepened. "I'm sorry, Captain, to put you through this trouble."

Char chuckled. "It's nothing. In fact, I'm hoping to get some answers while we're here, so this trip will only benefit us in the end." He guided the young woman to the only seat in the cabin, at his desk; he sat on his bed as he added, "Beyond that, there was no reason to remain at Solomon—or Konpei Island, as the Feddies insist on naming it—while peace talks continue. Until they're finished, we should consider the war at a ceasefire."

Lalah nodded again, but then suddenly shook her head. "I don't think it will be that simple, sir," she murmured. "Something tells me that there will be no peace." Tears began to well up in her eyes. "I don't understand, sir! Why won't the killing stop? What happened to the Newtype Ideal?"

Char sighed. "Zeon Zum Deikun's ideal Newtype was the next stage of evolution for all mankind. He envisioned that all the people in the world would be able to understand one another, and all war would end. But… that isn't happening, Lalah. Kycilia has her own views of Newtypes that I find myself agreeing with more and more: that Newtypes exist only because war exists; that they are born of war, and will therefore continue it."

Lalah stared at her captain. "But that is just too cruel!"

"I have seen no evidence to suggest otherwise," continued Char heavily. "Although it is a dire prediction of humanity's future, I can only guess that wars will continue forever, and that Newtypes will continue to fight them. Just as we do now." The man glanced out through his cabin window, taking in the blackness of space in the direction of Side 3. "As much as anyone else, I wish for Zeon's Newtype dream to come true. But as long as the world is ruled by Oldtypes, wars will continue unabated." Char returned his gaze to Lalah. "That is the future we must prepare for, even if we pray that it never comes." The woman nodded slowly, reluctantly accepting her captain's words.

Before the two could say more, however, the intercom buzzed on Char's desk. Lalah gave up her seat as Char sat down and activated the video feed. "What is it?" he demanded of the lieutenant on the other end of the line.

"Sir, we have received a signal from a _Musai_-class registered to Lady Kycilia's lunar fleet, requesting immediate contact with you."

Char's eyes narrowed beneath his mask. "Patch the signal through."

A moment later, none other than Colonel M'Quve's panicked expression provided Char with an omen of things to come. "Captain Char! Retreat from this sector immediately! We've been tricked!"

"Tricked?" asked the captain, confused. "By whom?"

M'Quve scowled. "By Supreme Commander Gihren. We were escorting Lady Kycilia to A Baoa Qu when we were intercepted by the defense forces there. They targeted the _Gwazine_ before we realized they were hostile. Her Excellency's dead. My group is the only piece of her escort to escape, and I'm sure they mean to pursue. Get your forces out of here, or they'll come after you as well!"

Behind Char, Lalah had gone pale. "Is this a coup?"

The captain clenched his teeth. "This is the second time I've been forced to flee Zeon," he muttered. To M'Quve he asked, "Is A Baoa Qu moving against Granada?"

The colonel shook his head. "I don't know, but I certainly hope not. Lady Mineva is there."

Char hissed. "Still? I would have thought she'd be in the homeland by now." Thinking quickly, the captain demanded, "Give me her location, Colonel. I'll see what I can do."

"Captain, risking your small group anywhere near Granada will be tantamount to sui—"

"Sir, I'm asking for that location so that I'm at risk for the least amount of time possible."

M'Quve sighed. "She's in the main government complex, in the governor's quarters. Her rooms are adjacent to Lady Kycilia's. She'll still be there, as long as Gihren doesn't have spies in the building."

Char nodded. "We can hope as much, though I doubt it. Shall we rendezvous afterward?"

The colonel nodded. Glancing to his right, where a map of the Earth Sphere was no doubt visible, the man said eventually, "I will wait three days for you in the Loum Shoal Zone; Texas, most likely. You're familiar with the place, yes?"

"I am." Lalah had tested her Newtype potential there with Char and Dr. Flanagan only a day before the Battle of Solomon, culminating in a duel with the Federation's Gundam mobile suit; the colony had taken damage, but at least one of the ports was still operational.

"If either of us cannot make the rendezvous, continue on your own to Side 6, and pray that they'll keep a secret," M'Quve continued. "I know that they had good relations with Her Excellency in the past."

'They didn't have a choice,' though Char darkly, and he wondered if they would be quite so welcoming to her soldiers when the threat of extermination didn't back them up. "We'll do that," he answered aloud.

The colonel nodded. "M'Quve, out."


	2. Building Tension

_A note for those who are familiar with Mobile Suit Gundam as a television show, but who have not seen the compilation films: This fic's chronology will seem a bit strange to you. For instance, in the previous chapter Char was familiar with the current state of Texas colony because he and Lalah had already tested the Elmeth there; however, Colonel M'Quve, who dies during the battle that occurs during that test, is still alive in this fic. That is because_ Encounters in Space _set the Battle of Solomon after, rather than before, the skirmish at Texas; therefore, M'Quve, who was dispatched to Solomon with Kycilia's Granada fleet in both versions, had to live through the Texas battle (in the film, in fact, he does not appear there). I have not chosen this chronology to make things easier on me; believe me, things would be much easier for me if M'Quve never appeared in this fic. However, it seems more logical for the_ White Base _to encounter Char and Lalah at Texas before the Battle of Solomon, considering Side 5's location in between Side 6 and the space fortress, than for the_ White Base _to attack Solomon, make its way back to Side 5 (which it would have passed on the way to the battle), and then return to Solomon again. That is not to say that everything that happened in the skirmish at Texas in the third film makes sense, of course—nuclear landmines in an abandoned colony? Really?—but in terms of chronology, it seemed more fitting to follow the film than the television episode order._

_More importantly for casual readers, I apologize for the slow update time, and must warn you that it will only get worse from here. You see, a month is the update time for chapters that are already written. Not only do I get easily sidetracked, but I'm attempting to keep the update schedule slow so that I have more time to write what hasn't already been written. What this means, sadly, is that the update schedule will slow to a crawl when I actually reach the point where I have nothing more pre-written and have to write and update at the same time. Thank my constant writer's block and my current lack of a definite direction for that: At the moment, I still have no idea how this fic will end, and it's starting to worry me._

_Needless Disclaimer: If I owned Gundam, it likely would never have been produced. I'll never be THAT good…_

/**/

"The situation is changing with every day," Mirai murmured. "First Side 7, then General Revil. And I have a feeling that that won't be the end of it."

Sayla Mass nodded darkly as she glanced out the bridge window into the space surrounding Luna II. "I agree with you there. But," she added, "Luna II is still ours, and we still have numerical superiority. The end will be bloody, but it's still in our favor."

Bright nodded, remembering his previous panic with a touch of embarrassment. Finding that Luna II remained safely in Federation hands had been a blessed relief. "As long as we can contact high command on the planet, the war should recommence once it becomes clear that General Revil is… gone." Like the rest of the crew, the commander held a special respect for the man. "And most of the remaining generals have already transferred to Dakar, so there should be very little delay on that front. It won't be long before we're—"

"Back to killing people," grumbled Amuro Ray with a sigh. Bright glared at the pilot, but didn't correct him; the mysterious events surrounding the end of the peace talks had left him understandably bitter.

Sayla turned toward him in concern, but before she could say anything, Marker Clan's voice rang out from the CIC: "Incoming signal, sir! It's a broadcast, origin…" Marker hissed. "Origin is L2, from what the instruments can triangulate."

The commander blinked. "Side 3, is it?" he asked, suspicious. "We'd better hear it."

The reception on the bridge's viewscreen lacked quality, but it was clear enough to make out the form of Gihren Zabi, sitting behind a desk. By the time Bright had ordered Marker to accept the signal, Gihren had already started talking: "…believed that your 'elite' brand of humanity clearly outshone the Spacenoids you ruled with little mercy and absolutely no understanding. Today you learn otherwise. As I speak, a modified O'Neill Island 3 type colony is being propelled through space, set to rendezvous with Earth in a day and a half. For those of you watching this broadcast from the Federation space fleet currently stuck at L3, know that this colony began its journey only hours after you left L5; you will be unable to intercept it before it reaches the point of no return, assuming that you can pinpoint its location at all. In short, gentlemen of the Earth Federation, you have as long as it takes for the colony to reach the point of no return to surrender this war outright. Should you refuse to do so… Well, the war has changed. You have no idea how many forces I have waiting for the word to snatch a cylinder. But I'm sure you realize that your planet cannot expect to survive many more such bombardments. Surrendering now, to the rule of Zeon, is far preferable to such a fate, as I'm certain that your resident scientists will tell you. The time remaining to do so, however, slips by even as I speak. Choose wisely, my good Earthlings."

The signal went dead at this, leaving the _White Base_ crew staring at the blank screen. After a long minute, though, Bright regained his wits. "Impossible!" he scoffed with as much assurance as he could muster. "Zeon must be nearly out of troops by now. They don't have enough people to take a colony every other day."

"I don't think he'd bluff about having one already, though," Mirai replied. "And that's all that the Federation leadership will have on their minds."

The commander glared at his helmswoman. "I should hope that the high command would be able to look ahead far enough to see that Gihren can't do the damage he proposes to do. A single colony falling on Earth is a tragedy, and I know that suffering many more of them will be the end of the planet. But by enduring just _one_ more, the Federation will leave Gihren in an impossible situation. We will win this war."

Sayla glanced at the blue orb floating outside the _White Base_'s bridge window, serene in its beauty—for all that the war had brought it. "The Federation has made long-term planning before," she began, "especially regarding mobile suit development, but only at the insistence of General Revil. Before they gave him authority to deal with strategy, the Federation never bothered to take into account the changes in warfare brought about by Minovsky reactors, despite the fact that Minovsky particles were confirmed more than a decade ago. Sir, Revil would have looked ahead, but the same group that was in charge before him was also in high command _under_ him, and without him they've taken charge again. Don't trust them."

Bright glared at Sayla—at, he knew, _Artesia_—but he knew the truth for himself, even if he didn't like to admit it. "So basically, Gihren has bluffed his way to victory," he murmured. "Which puts us in the same situation that I called you in here for in the first place." The commander glanced at Amuro, who had been unusually silent through the discussion. "What do you think, as our resident Newtype?" He was only half-joking.

"Side 6."

The bridge was filled with confused looks. "What about it?" asked Kai Shiden dismissively, eyeing Amuro strangely. "It's not like they'll help the Federation. They're under Zeon's thumb, and they don't like either side anyway."

Amuro nodded. "They don't like either side," he agreed. "And they have a grudge against Zeon for holding them down. They'll agree to a simple request from us if it snubs Zeon without endangering them too badly."

Bright's expression lightened with sudden hope. "You want us to ask them to search for the falling colony?"

The hope was dashed when Amuro shook his head. "Side 6 isn't equipped with the tools for the task; you know that already, sir. The Federation only gave them autonomy on the condition that they remained dependent on the Federation for defense. Only Dakar's surrender will stop that drop." The pilot glanced out into space for a moment, before returning his attention to Bright. "Whatever happens afterward, though, we need to make our way to Side 6."

Hayato Kobayashi glanced at Kai, who shrugged, before turning back to Amuro. "What's so important there?"

The boy furrowed his brow in concentration. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's faint; I can barely feel it—"

"It hasn't gotten there yet," Sayla said suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. "It's still on its way. But it's going to Side 6, there's no doubt of that."

Amuro nodded, still focused far away. "Do you know what it is?"

"It's familiar, but I can't tell for sure." Sayla shook her head. "I can't tell." She glanced up at Bright. "We'll find out when we get there."

"I can't just abandon the fleet to go on some wild goose chase!" Bright snapped. "After three months in the military, even you civilians ought to know better. We follow orders, not hunches!"

"If we're ordered to surrender," Mirai asked pointedly, "will you do it?"

The commander stared at his helmswoman for a long moment before finally sighing, closing his eyes in defeat. "If, and _only_ if, the Federation surrenders outright," Bright decided, "we will head for Side 6."

/**/

Gihren Zabi, Supreme Commander of Zeon's armed forces and _de facto_ ruler of the Principality itself after the… _unfortunate_ demise of his father, paced through the corridors of Granada's government complex, flanked by several bodyguards to ensure the obedience of any Kycilia loyalists that might still be present. The man himself was distracted by his thoughts, being steered through the unfamiliar building by guides but paying only minimal attention to their information. Gihren had reason for his distraction: He was mentally preparing himself for both governing the Earth Sphere and combating a stubborn insurgency. Indeed, it was very likely that he would face ongoing conflicts on multiple fronts, although he had no need to worry over obliteration. Not as the Federation did.

Gihren was, quite obviously, certain of his victory. He did not have the manpower to fulfill his threat of dragging innumerable colonies into Earth's gravity well, but he was already well on his way to bringing down one in particular. Due to his father's stubborn agreement to ceasefire talks with the Federation, Gihren had been forced to rush the construction of his Solar Ray colony laser, resulting in a flawed product that could only be fired once before failing. That single shot had been used to end the peace talks, making the Solar Ray useless as a cannon. However, Gihren had already formulated his plans for the war's end, and the Solar Ray still had its place in those plans. Even as the supreme commander pondered whether or not the Federation would give in, the cannon was on its way to enforce his authority over them should they refuse.

Of course, the Federation's hardliners might become a liability in the near future. Gihren knew that, should the Earth Federation be allowed to exist past the end of the war, Side 3 would be endangered for generations to come; it was for that reason that it had been imperative to interrupt his father's peace talks. But those same hard-line generals that would drive the Federation into a second war with Zeon would not be silenced simply by liquidating the Federation itself. Gihren had no doubt that rogue Federation forces would plague him for the next several years, if not decades. He also knew, though, that he could easily outlast them.

Gihren was more irritated with his forces' failure to contain all of his sister's loyalists than any other problem. While rogue Federation forces might pose difficulties, they were still outsiders with little knowledge of Zeon's inner workings. On the other hand, Kycilia's high-level officers, apparently including the legendary Red Comet himself, were Zeon themselves, and were intimately aware of Gihren's weaknesses. Should these men resolve to fight his regime, Gihren would be faced with a much larger task, something he actually dreaded. Kycilia, after all, had been nearly as popular a leader as Dozle, and her forces had been among Zeon's most feared. And as for Char Aznable… Gihren sighed to himself as he realized that Zeon's propaganda machine would backfire spectacularly on the day that the Red Comet chose to oppose his regime.

Morale would also falter among the citizenry the moment Kycilia's men revealed that they had managed to spirit away Dozle's widow and infant daughter, which would almost certainly lead to confusion as to who the "legitimate" leader of Zeon truly was. Gihren, after all, was clearly guilty of killing his sister, which could be construed as a reason to cease serving him. Although Gihren was confident that the propaganda containing his excuse would keep most of Zeon loyal, he could not guess just how many might be swayed. In the end, the man knew that he had a reason to be worried.

The supreme commander's thoughts only deviated from these troubles when his guide motioned to a door on the left, indicating that they had reached their destination. As the bodyguards stationed themselves outside the door, Gihren entered the room—Kycilia's office—and was immediately greeted by two saluting lieutenants and a colonel. "Your Excellency," the colonel began, "thank you for coming on such short—"

"Why did you call me down here, Virgil?" Gihren demanded, cutting short the other man's apologies.

The colonel blinked, but quickly regrouped. "As you ordered, sir, our forces took control of this building as soon as possible. I believe Your Excellency was already briefed on the loss of Lady Zen—"

"Zenna and Mineva Zabi. Get to the point."

"Y-Yes, Your Excellency. Other than the appropriation of the Zabis, our first priority was to secure the rooms and belongings of Kycilia Zabi, which was done as quickly as possible. Lieutenant Gabine here"—one of the lieutenants straightened his shoulders—"commandeered Her Excellency's—"

"'Kycilia' will do," Gihren interrupted, annoyed.

Colonel Virgil nodded hastily. "He commandeered Kycilia's personnel files, and came across an anomaly very early in his scans. If Your Excellency would care to see this…" The colonel turned to Kycilia's desk, where he turned her computer monitor to face Gihren and stepped aside for the supreme commander to take a look.

Gihren glanced at the colonel's nervous expression before deciding that he was about to receive _very_ bad news, as if he did not already have enough to prepare for. Stepping forward, he leaned toward the screen and inspected the information provided. He was not surprised to note that the file dealt with one of Kycilia's pet projects, the 300th Independent Corps, and its enigmatic commander Char Aznable in particular. Gihren's brow rose slightly; like almost everyone who had ever seen the Red Comet, he was certainly curious about the masked man. The file said little of interest, however, and the supreme commander was about to glare at the colonel once more to demand an explanation when he came across a heading he would not have expected to see in such a file: 'Known Aliases'.

'To assign a whole section to explain the term "Red Comet" seems—' Gihren began to think, but glancing at the first name on the list made him pause.

"Edward Mass?" he asked aloud. That was a familiar name, one to which he attached some importance. Dredging through his memory, Gihren vaguely recalled Kycilia ordering the death of an Edward Mass—from Texas colony in Side 5, if he recalled correctly—for fear that he might be a danger to Zeon. No, to the Zabis in particular; Gihren frowned as more returned to him, but the final piece did not arrive until he lowered his eyes to the second name on the list, prompting his eyes to widen in disbelief.

"Casval?" The supreme commander slowly straightened, still staring at the screen. "Casval Rem Deikun is the Red Comet, Char Aznable?" Someone who had escaped Degwin's first purges, who had survived the assassination attempt that had killed even the great Jimba Ral, and who had apparently returned from certain death at Side 5, had been _that_ close to the Zabi family? Suddenly Garma's death could be seen in a terrible new light—

And, thanks to his forces' incompetence, this same man and the soldiers he commanded were still at large.

Gihren's teeth clenched in rage, but a minute of steady breathing helped him regain control; losing his head in front of his men would be unforgivable. Turning to Colonel Virgil, the man said only, "Thank you for informing me of this. Make certain that this information does not leave this room." He glared at the lieutenants. "I hope I am _clear_ on that."

"Absolutely, Your Excellency," replied the colonel, saluting again as Gihren turned on his heel and left the room without reply.

/**/

Char gritted his teeth as his heavily-damaged _Zanzibar_ came to a halt within the hangar of Texas colony, while his eyes passed over the ships that surrounded his own. He saw too few; half of his own corps had been blasted away by Gihren's occupational forces as they fled Granada with Dozle's family in tow, and by the looks of it Colonel M'Quve's small group had done only reasonably better. The only ships to be seen were four _Musai_s, another _Zanzibar_, and a lone _Komusai_ capsule. In short, this small force had no hope of standing up to the supreme commander. "A single spy could kill us all, if these are all we have," the captain muttered bitterly.

"You don't trust the colonel?" asked Lalah, observing the activity in the hangar at Char's side.

"I don't trust his men," the masked man corrected. "M'Quve himself would never forgive Gihren for killing Lady Kycilia, but are his men loyal to Kycilia or to _Zeon_? It's entirely possible that some of them were stationed with Kycilia due to luck; they won't be happy to find themselves considered traitors."

Lalah sighed. Turning toward her commander, she asked, "Do you trust _our_ men?"

"As much as it is possible to trust anyone," answered Char. "I feel no reason to doubt those under my command."

"Sir! Colonel M'Quve wishes to board."

Char glanced at the monitor above the bridge window. M'Quve could be seen waiting at the _Zanzibar_'s main hatch, impatiently tapping his foot. "Welcome him aboard," the captain ordered. "I will see him in my quarters." To Lalah he said, "Come with me. I would like to hear your impression of the good colonel."

Obeying, Lalah floated behind the captain as he led the way off of the bridge and into the adjoining corridor, waiting for the door to close behind her before she spoke again. "I can tell you already that he doesn't have much fashion sense."

This statement produced the desired result: Char couldn't help but laugh, and his melancholy of the past day disappeared for a moment. "That he doesn't," he agreed. He sobered slightly. "He doesn't much care for me, either, so expect slight antagonism. Try not to provoke him." Char thought for a moment before adding, "No doubt he will want to speak with Lady Zenna, and see Mineva while he's at it. He will probably want them transferred to his ship, as well."

"Shall I bring them to your quarters?" Lalah asked.

Char nodded. "Please do that." Lalah quickly turned down the nearest side corridor, and the captain made the rest of the journey to his quarters alone.

Only a moment or so after Char had closed the door to his quarters, someone was knocking on it. "Colonel M'Quve to see you, sir."

"Come in." The door opened, and the guard that had been speaking stepped aside to allow M'Quve through. Char saluted as the colonel entered the room, casting his eyes over its contents in an effort to learn more about the enigmatic Char Aznable while he could. "Colonel, I am glad to see that you were able to make the rendezvous."

"I'm equally glad for your arrival," M'Quve replied (insincerely, Char was sure; he probably wouldn't have cared, except that Char had promised to bring Dozle's family along). Returning the captain's salute, the colonel asked, "What is your group's status?"

"Half of my men are dead, and my ship is heavily damaged, as you can see. Do you know of any port that would be able to repair us?"

M'Quve scoffed. "Of course not, with all of Zeon against us. Even Side 6 will probably be less than neutral about resupplying us; either we'll need a massive bribe, or we'll need to steal what we can get."

Char frowned. "Even so, we'll have a better chance there than—"

"I'm aware of that," grumbled M'Quve, his brows furrowed as he thought. "If it weren't for that alone, I would more happily advocate any number of other places to hide. Staying where we are, for example—"

A knock on the door interrupted him. "Ensign Lalah Sune, bringing Lady Zenna and Lady Mineva Zabi, to see you, sir."

M'Quve spoke before Char could. "Come."

As soon as the door opened, Lalah stepped inside and to the right, allowing Zenna Zabi through. Char smiled as he glanced at the infant cradled in the woman's arms, who was apparently sleeping; that quickly changed when M'Quve stepped up to her mother. Bowing slightly, the colonel said, "I apologize, Lady Zenna, for having you dragged out of Zeon territory on short notice. I assure you that it was necessary."

Lady Zenna looked at the colonel evenly, even as she soothed her now-crying daughter. "Necessary for whom, I wonder?" When M'Quve glanced up in confusion, the woman told him, "I am the wife of Dozle Zabi; this is _Dozle's_ child. Gihren might have had some quarrel with Kycilia, as I don't doubt my husband had as well. But I have heard of no such quarrel between Gihren and Dozle. My child and I were in no danger at Granada, as I'm sure you were aware at the time, Colonel. So…" The woman's eyes narrowed. "Does that make us your hostages, to use if my brother-in-law happens to find you?"

M'Quve straightened, his expression hardening. Char, who had stepped forward to better observe the colonel's reaction, almost winced at the confrontation he foresaw. "Do you believe us to be that desperate, Lady Zenna? We might be hiding, but that simply means that we have evaded pursuit. We are currently safe from discovery, and will remain so for as long as necessary. We have no need of hostages." M'Quve motioned toward Mineva. "We took you as a kindness, my lady. Did you imagine that Gihren would not use the infant in his schemes? A man who murders his own sister has little love to spare for his more distant relations; I assure you that Gihren would have found some use for Lady Mineva, until he found a convenient means of being rid of her." Char noticed Lalah's pained expression, upon hearing of the nature of Zeon's ruler. To the kindhearted, politics was always terrible.

"That is not to say that you will not do the same, Colonel M'Quve," Lady Zenna replied. "No matter your excuses, the fact remains that remaining behind in Granada, in Zeon, would have brought us no harm. Now, however, I am forced to wonder if we are your guests, or your captives. I can sense absolutely no reason to lay my trust in you, given your current situation and the methods left open to you. So, Colonel M'Quve…" The woman glared her hardest at this point. "I formally request to be returned to Granada."

She knew the answer to that question before it could even be asked, but it was a bold move; it forced M'Quve to acknowledge her status as a prisoner, even if only two officers were witness to the event. The colonel saw the dilemma, and was not amused. "Lady Zenna," he began, his frown extremely deep, "you know already that any of my vessels would be destroyed on sight the moment it entered Granada's range. I have no choice but to deny your request."

Zenna scoffed. "Of course," she murmured, turning away. "What a villain, that Gihren…" The door opened, allowing her to step through; Lalah, receiving Char's nod, quickly followed her into the corridor, and the door closed to leave the captain and the colonel alone.

The latter of the two clenched his fist, but otherwise chose not to express his anger. Instead he said to Char, "Perhaps I shall leave Lady Zenna with you. I would have preferred to take the entire entourage onto the _Hummel_, but clearly Lady Mineva will have to make do with her nurses alone."

Char's brows rose. "Would you antagonize her that much more, sir? She has already proven difficult; if she is pushed, she may actively attempt to betray us to Gihren."

M'Quve glanced sidelong at the masked man. "Do you believe so?" Giving the matter some more thought, he nodded. "Fine. I have no need of more mouths to feed. I'll leave the retinue with you, Captain."

Char saluted as M'Quve made to leave, but before the colonel even made it to the threshold, the intercom buzzed. Char answered it swiftly. "Yes?"

"Sir, the Federation is making an announcement! Shall I patch it through?"

"Do it," ordered Char, before standing back to allow M'Quve a view of the screen as the image of a Federation politician appeared, already speaking.

/**/

_This cliffhanger was not intentional. I unfortunately did not write this story with chapter breaks in mind, which will affect readability somewhat. Again, my apologies._


	3. Burning Bridges

_For anyone looking for actual action in terms of mobile suit combat from this story, here's some. Well, kind of. [smiles sheepishly] Yes, I know, this story is building fairly slowly. I'm afraid that's not going to get any better any time soon. But please bear with me. Char et al. aren't going to be sneaking around doing nothing forever._

_Pointless Disclaimer: I OWN GUNDAM! April Fools._

/**/

"…and it is with great sorrow, but equal necessity, that the Earth Federation Assembly has voted in favor of surrender…"

Bright struggled to keep his eyes dry, but Fraw Bow didn't bother; the commander could hear her weeping at the communications console. He could not see Mirai's expression, but her shaking head was enough to tell him that she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Marker's muttering could be heard cursing the Federation Assembly from Dakar to Beijing; glancing back, Bright caught sight of Job John praying. Perhaps, he thought bitterly, that was the wisest action of all; it was likely to be the most helpful.

Bright glanced back up at the screen, where the politician droned on about the Federation's history of service to mankind; most likely he was protesting to Gihren that the Federation government could be useful to him if he allowed its members to live, although Bright didn't doubt that many of those members had already bargained their way into Zeon society. "Someone turn that thing off," he grumbled, reaching up to hold his head in his hands. "I don't think I can take much more." Marker must have done it from his station, because the muttering grew in intensity as the required button was pressed (no doubt with a good deal of violence).

"So it's… over, then?"

Bright turned his attention to Fraw, who had calmed down enough to speak coherently. "Over?" he repeated. "Of course not. Nothing's over until you stop trying or get killed. Neither of those things has happened yet, Fraw. We can't give up now." The commander had a terrible feeling that his voice betrayed his lack of faith in his words.

Mirai took Bright's encouragement as orders, however. "Setting a course for Side 6," she intoned, drawing a sharp glance from Bright, who had yet to actually give any such command. At length, though, he sighed.

"We won't get far alone," he muttered. "Fraw, contact the flagship for support. Be sure to keep them from learning where we're headed, in case they—"

"I'm sorry, sir, but we just received orders from Dakar to await Zeon technical officers at Luna II," the girl interrupted. "We're being ordered to fall back into line. I don't think they'll listen to us."

The commander sighed again. "Try anyway. Use a fleet-wide frequency, in case someone else chooses to follow us on their own."

Fraw nodded. "Yes, sir."

Bright leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes against the inevitable. After a moment, though, he steeled himself and activated the ship-wide public address system. "All pilots, stand by. The _White Base_ is currently leaving the fleet."

Mirai turned toward Bright sharply at this. "You're ordering them to fight the fleet?"

Bright eyed the woman. "I hope they don't have to fight at all." Moving his gaze to the space outside the bridge windows, he murmured, "It will all depend on the fleet's reaction."

/**/

'They turned their backs on them,' Amuro thought darkly as he strapped himself into the Gundam once more. 'Ryu, Miss Matilda, Lieutenant Woody… Captain Paolo, Admiral Wakkein, General Revil—the Federation has betrayed them all.' Closing the cockpit hatch, the pilot announced, "Gundam, standing by."

"C-108, standing by," came the voice of Kai Shiden soon after. He sounded almost as angry as Amuro felt; of course, Miharu's loss still weighed on him. Sayla called out next, with Hayato close behind. After that… silence. Amuro reminded himself for the hundredth time that Sleggar Law wouldn't be with them for any more sorties—another life lost, another disrespected memory.

"Confirmed. Relax while you can." Fraw's voice was tired, pained; it was a verbal echo of the depression Amuro could feel flooding the ship, spiking sometimes in anger like his own, but more generally festering in the minds of the crew who had no opportunity to lash out.

Closing his eyes for a moment, the pilot cast his mind into the past, remembering the lives lost even as he wondered why. It was the question that formed the basis of the war: Was it worth all of those lives, on both sides, to attain independence? Most patriotic Zeon citizens would immediately answer _yes_, of course; their leader, who was less interested in independence than he was in the dominance of humanity, was hardly worthy of answering the question at all. But General Revil, and due to his efforts the rest of the Earth Federation, had answered firmly _no_, that lives were not a price worth paying for something that could be gained without spending them. Under General Revil, that argument had guided the entire Federation through a year of unrelenting warfare; the moment that the guiding force of the war disappeared, therefore, it was almost a given that the remainder of high command would quickly lose its way. And, like sheep to the slaughter, there was little doubt that the majority of high command's subordinates—including the fleet currently surrounding the _White Base_—would follow their incompetent commanders to the end.

As if on cue, Fraw's voice interrupted Amuro's thoughts. "Five GMs approaching from starboard-aft. Amuro, Kai, try to delay them without actually shooting at them, if you can. They aren't technically the enemy, after all."

Amuro nodded. "Will do," he said, forcing more confidence into his voice than he felt. "Gundam, launching!"

/**/

Despite his anger, Kai felt almost giddy as his Guncannon raced to intercept the incoming GMs, and he was hardly ashamed to admit it. His mischievous nature had been partially stifled by military discipline over the previous few months, but it was returning to the fore now that his entire crew was attempting to reject authority. Although the pilot knew the seriousness of the stakes and the solemnity of the _White Base_'s new predicament, he could not help but smile as he approached the speeding GM suits that were attempting to overtake his ship.

"C-108 Gu—annon, stand—side or retur—your vessel. C-108, d—you read? Get out of—"

"You know this suit outperforms yours two-to-one, right?" Kai interrupted. "You're not in the right equipment to be bossing me around."

The lead GM visibly jerked at this rebuttal, before raising his rifle. "Are y—part of the mutiny—that _Pegasus_-class?"

Kai shook his head in disgust. 'If I wasn't, would I be out here?' he thought to himself. Aloud he said, "If you consider using common sense to be a mutiny, then… yeah, I'm part of the mutiny."

The GMs were slowing down now, preparing to surround Kai's Guncannon. This meant that Kai was doing his job perfectly, but he couldn't help but be nervous at the firepower being leveled at him. He also noticed, to his dismay, that several nearby _Salamis_-class vessels were making their way toward the _White Base_; a lone mobile suit could not expect to deflect even one warship without actually sinking it, and Kai really didn't want to start firing at Federation forces. "Come on, now, is this really—"

"You—ll come wi—us, C-108. Your violation—regulations cannot be—"

Although Kai hadn't been paying attention from the start of the leader's speech (being more interested in, and nervous about, the rapidly-retreating _White Base_), he was just as quick as the GM leader to react to a proximity sensor alarm, moving forward to engage the leader in a grappling match as Amuro's Gundam appeared from seemingly nowhere to crash shield-first into one of the other GMs, sending it sprawling. It quickly recovered, but its main camera and targeting systems were destroyed, and apparently the pilot didn't dare to fire a shot at a target that was surrounded by friendlies with only the auxiliary video data. Meanwhile, Amuro had knocked another GM out of the way with a well-placed kick to the cockpit, possibly knocking the pilot unconscious for the moment. Kai, on the other hand, was fighting a veteran pilot with a machine that was not built for maneuverability, and he could only hold his own as long as he kept a hold on his opponent's GM. Desperate to keep the advantage, Kai ignored Fraw's request to keep the guns silent and brought one of his shoulder-mounted cannons to bear on the GM's faceplate and main camera. The concussion from the blast knocked the GM away from the Guncannon's grasp, and Kai immediately turned his attention to the remaining two GMs. Both of these had already turned around to run; Amuro caught one of the two in the booster pack with his thrown shield, however, damaging enough of the equipment to minimize the suit's propulsion. The Gundam quickly caught up, wrapping its arm around the GM's head as Amuro aimed a punch at the booster pack, severing a critical connection—as far as Kai could tell, anyway. Whatever had been done, the GM's propulsion system was rendered inoperable, and the suit's thrashing ended when Kai came up to assist Amuro in restraining it. "What do you want to do, drag it back to the _White Base_?"

As the Gundam briefly took off to retrieve its shield (prompting some more futile thrashing from the GM), Amuro replied, "I s—pose we might as well. I don't real—know what I was plan—to do, other than immobilize—"

"Whatever we do, it's got to be fast. The _White Base_ is leaving us behind, and there are bound to be more suits after us while we're out here." Even as he spoke, Kai was adding as much boost as he could to his thrusters, trying to go as fast as possible toward his vessel while dragging a protesting suit along.

"We'll get back, don't worry about that," said Amuro as the Gundam latched onto the GM once again. "The problem is going to be after that, getting away from these ships before we get to… where we're going," he finished vaguely, for the benefit of the captured (and eavesdropping) GM pilot.

Kai glanced around. "Yeah," he muttered, "good luck with that."

/**/

Luck, it seemed, sided with the _White Base_. Less than an hour after pursuit began, during which time none of the _Salamis_-class vessels had bothered to fire a shot, a laser signal from Luna II cut off the chase. As Fraw said when she intercepted the message, "They're more willing to explain a mutiny of one ship to Zeon than try to explain why seven other ships had to follow us far enough to be absent from their 'inspection.'"

Bright merely nodded at this, but he was taking no chances. "Mirai, we will make certain that they have really given up pursuit before making our way to Side 6. Correct our course toward L1, for now." As Mirai did as she was told, the commander glanced at Fraw. "Recall Kai and Hayato"—Amuro had returned after his 'battle'—"and launch Sayla to keep an eye out. Have Amuro on standby in case she finds anything."

"Yes, sir," Fraw replied over her shoulder. "C-108, C-109…"

Bright turned toward the bridge window, which showed Earth coming closer and closer; a day or so, and they would be gliding by. It was still a beautiful sight, but the commander was filled with bitterness upon viewing his home. 'To think that we're turning our backs on each other…' he thought to himself. Then he shook his head grimly. 'No, we're still fighting for Earth, and its people. If anyone turned their backs on Earth, the first to blame are the politicians and commanders at Dakar.'

Gritting his teeth, Bright forced his eyes away from the blue globe and turned toward the map of the Earth Sphere to his left. The _White Base_'s current course, adjusted toward L1, was clearly shown, but the commander eyed L4 more steadily. Side 6 would probably see very little reason to welcome them; indeed, after the _White Base_'s last visit, Bright had the feeling that the Side 6 government would prefer to see the ship sunk. But there was little other option. Hiding anywhere else would put them directly under the control of one or the other faction, making stealth that much more difficult. And Side 6 also contained a fairly high-ranking ally: Cameron Bloom. Although Bright had hoped never to see the man again, he knew that the _White Base_ could use all the help it could get at this point, and would therefore refuse no offer of aid.

"Sir, the visual scanners are picking up lights ahead," came Job's voice from above. "Ships launching from Earth, most likely."

"They're probably making their way to Luna II for the Zeon inspection," Bright muttered. "Can we avoid them?"

"Yes, sir, if they continue on their present course. It should take at least six hours to reach them as it is."

The commander nodded to himself. "Calculate the needed course corrections," he ordered. "We'll need to be far enough out of their range to avoid Minovsky particle detection."

"Yes, s— IFF laser signal detected, seven o'clock!"

Bright turned sharply. "What is it?" he demanded.

"Federation, _Salamis_-class, sir." Job's voice sounded confused. "The distance is too great to commence ship-to-ship combat, even with the minimum Minovsky particle interference. They can't be here to attack us, or they wouldn't have given away their location."

"They could be acting as a decoy," Bright speculated. "Keep a lookout for incoming contacts from any direction! Fraw Bow, tell Sayla to watch out for a sneak attack from any other angle." The commander glanced at the data being sent to the bridge floor. "If they report our position to the incoming ships from Earth, we'll need to make a break for it. Be prepared."

A tense moment passed in silence. Then Fraw Bow turned sharply. "Sir, incoming laser transmission from the _Salamis_!"

Bright blinked. "Laser transmission? What do they want to keep encrypted?" The commander shook his head. "Read it, please."

Fraw brought the decoded message to eye level. "'_Pegasus_-class _White Base_, this is _Salamis_-class _Argos_. Requesting to cooperate with you. Please respond.' Nothing else, sir."

The bridge crew glanced at Bright, waiting for his decision. Finally he ordered, "Ask them what they want."

The reply was quick in coming. "They say they want to kill Zekes, sir."

Bright scoffed. "They sound a bit brash to me. But if they want to help… I suppose it can't hurt. Tell them to follow us. _Don't_ tell them where we're going." The commander paused. Then he added, "Tell them to come alongside, to make communications easier. And make them turn that IFF signal off, or they'll tell everyone from here to the moon where we are."

As Fraw did as she was ordered, Mirai turned to Bright. "You don't trust them, do you?"

"Not really," Bright admitted, his eyes narrowed in thought. "After all, we're running for our lives. 'Killing Zekes' isn't on our list of priorities at the moment." The commander shook his head. "Hasn't there been enough killing already?"

/**/

Jenna Heidfeld sighed for the millionth time, and reminded herself once again that it could have been worse.

It was true, to be sure: She could have been killed, either during her run-in with the Gundam or during her sortie at the Battle of Solomon. Really, she was luckier than most soldiers in her predicament. Even if destiny or whatever had demanded that she spend time as a prisoner, it had been very kind to make her a prisoner of a Federation ship; after all, she was at war with _Zeon_, so her current captors had little reason to treat her harshly. And even with all the excitement, the crew hadn't forgotten about her, either. She was still being fed, at least.

It really could have been worse. But that statement alone didn't change the fact that Jenna had been confined to a cell smaller than her cabin aboard the _Rio Grande_, with no apparent date of release. She was fairly certain that the crew of the _White Base_ had no idea what to do with her, either. Basically, she was stuck, and would remain that way for the foreseeable future.

Needless to say, this left Jenna with a lot of time on her hands, and no idea on how to spend it.

'This is _not_ what I expected when the recruiter told me that I'd get alone-time as often as I needed it,' she thought as she turned over on her cot once more. 'Of course, up until now that had been an outright lie, so… does that make me getting captured an _improvement_?'

Unsurprisingly, the recruiter had been lacking in details and overflowing with big fat lies, but considering the climate at the time—Zeon had taken more than half the planet's landmass for itself, and Operation Odessa had been a fantastic dream—there was little reason to be honest. The Federation was desperate for anyone that could carry a gun; Jenna had been extremely lucky that her uncle had pulled some strings to make her a pilot, rather than infantry, or she would have been killed for sure during the Odessa campaign. Even more luckily, the training had been long enough to keep her from participating, and she was transferred to a space-bound assignment before the African front could grab her. Assigned to the _Salamis_-class _Dublin_, Jenna had been allowed one more meeting with her family (her mother and older sister; her father had been killed during the Zeon drop operations) before the vessel launched to join the Tianem fleet. She had been given a few weeks to grow acclimated to the weightless environment before taking part in Operation Cembalo, in which she was among only a handful of Earth-born pilots to survive (unsurprisingly, the Spacenoids had better luck). It was an achievement, but not one of which Jenna was particularly proud. Even though she'd survived, the _Dublin_ had been sunk; from what she had been told later, it had drifted into the path of Dozle Zabi's monstrous mobile armor, and had been dealt with accordingly.

So Jenna had made herself at home on board the _Salamis_-class _Rio Grande_, on which she had landed after the Battle of Solomon as a matter of random chance. It was a ship filled mostly with Spacenoids, and Jenna was out of place among them, but they took her in nonetheless. During the race from Solomon to Luna II, Jenna had made a number of friends on board. Considering her current situation, she doubted she'd see them, or even her family, again.

For the million-and-first time, Jenna tried to dispel her growing depression. 'Quit brooding,' she admonished herself. '_It could be worse_.'

…_Sigh_.

/**/

_Yes, I put in an OC, and she will be fairly prominent. Based on my reply to your review, animefan29, I indicated that I was not pleased with most side stories' uses of their own original characters and plotlines, and would not use them; using an OC here seems a bit hypocritical, I know. Please allow me to defend myself. My main complaints with the Gundam side stories revolve around plot holes and retcons, but I am often displeased with their use of new characters as well. However, most of my displeasure falls on the Zeon side of the war. This is because the good guys (in all cases except MS IGLOO and 0080, anyway) are practically all wearing Federation uniforms, and because of that they all have to have personal rivals on the Zeon side in order to make the story interesting from the viewers' standpoint. To make the Federation main characters into underdogs, of course, the Zeon rivals have to be aces, leading to the implausible situation that Zeon appears to have master pilots on every front. Again, it becomes an issue of continuity: 'If Solomon had a defender that was as feared as Anavel Gato was said to be in 0083, wouldn't we have heard about him in the original storyline?' etc. Faceless regular soldiers, on the other hand, are found everywhere on both sides, in the original series and elsewhere. Jenna Heidfeld, and the other OCs that will make their appearance in upcoming chapters, can best be described under this label; their place in this fic is dependent on their proximity to the main characters, rather than any inherent "specialness" in their own right._

_Of course, if you didn't really care that there's an OC here, I'm sorry to have bored you with the above._

_Please review! I know I said earlier that I wasn't a stickler for that kind of stuff, but at the same time, I am slowly coming to learn just why other authors like feedback so much. So please feed me (at least a little)!_


	4. Standoff

_Another late update, sadly. I haven't done much—okay, I haven't done _any_ writing in this fic for a while, so even as I put this up I know that I'm coming closer and closer to the point where my material will run out. I have no idea how fanfic writers are able to post every three weeks or so when they're writing each update from scratch; I can't imagine it, honestly._

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. Thank you even more for putting up with my highly-opinionated self when the reviews turn into some very long conversations. I hope you all enjoy this chapter (which has an actual mobile suit battle in it! Some action at last—except that it's a flashback…)._

_The Usual Nonsense: I do not own Gundam, the Gundam, any Gundam, or even a model Gundam._

/**/

"We were lucky to attain their compliance, Colonel," Char told his superior via video feed as the _Zanzibar_ and M'Quve's _Musai_-class _Hummel_ coasted slowly into the harbor of Baldur Bay colony; the other vessels had been left outside of the neutral zone to avoid bringing unwanted attention to the group. "The officials weren't happy to hear our request, but so long as they believe us to be Zeon, they won't dare refuse us. The problems will come when they learn otherwise."

Colonel M'Quve scowled. "Then we must make do with what time we have. I assume that the good Dr. Flanagan will agree to meet with you, of course; you told me that your ensign was his star pupil, after all."

The captain nodded. "I don't doubt that Dr. Flanagan will give us some support, but we cannot expect much. He will likely be angry upon learning of Lady Kycilia's death, if only for the loss of her funding. But he will be wary of drawing attention from Gihren."

"I highly suspect that Dr. Flanagan's research, and Her Excellency's patronage, have not gone unnoticed by Gihren anyway," the colonel grumbled, watching with narrowed eyes as the _Hummel_'s beam cannons were taped over by Side 6 government workers. "He would be foolish to reject any aid we could give him. I suspect he'll provide us with all he can."

Char's eyes rolled behind his mask. 'What aid could we possibly give him when we are here for _his_ help?' he thought wryly. "Even so, sir, the Flanagan Institute is not a repository of superior Newtype weapons and soldiers. We already have its best products aboard this ship. More importantly, I would be surprised to learn if Dr. Flanagan did not already have a means of a quick getaway, should the need arise."

"So he may not bother to help us at all?" M'Quve growled angrily.

"The possibility exists, but I doubt it will be that dire," Char replied. "Even if we can't provide Dr. Flanagan with any tangible benefit, we do have a bargaining chip. He will be almost desperate to learn the results of the Elmeth's tests at Solomon, and might be persuaded to join us with the promise of further research alone. Gihren, to be sure, will have no need of his Newtype soldiers, and with us he will have nearly unlimited access to Ensign Lalah Sune."

"That will have to be enough; we can't offer any more than that." The colonel frowned as a bridge officer called something to him from outside Char's frame of vision. "Yes, let him on board," he said eventually. To the captain he said, "I'll take care of the reception here. Do what you need to do, but do it _quickly_."

"I'll do my best, sir," Char replied with a sharp salute, which M'Quve didn't bother to return before the connection ended. Immediately, the captain's expression darkened. "I really do hate that man," he muttered to himself.

A feminine chuckle turned his attention to Lalah, who was floating off to his left out of the viewscreen's line of sight. "He's still useful, though, Captain. He has to take care of the formalities, after all."

Char smirked. "True, although in that capacity he's more of a liability than an asset. Colonel M'Quve has never been a diplomat." The captain shrugged as he turned toward the door. "Still, we won't remain long here, unless we want to be captured or killed. Really, Side 6 might have been a poor choice of sanctuary. We'll need to leave within a day or two of finding shelter here."

"No, this is right."

Char turned his head toward Lalah as she floated just behind him into the corridor. "What do you mean?"

The ensign frowned in confusion. "I… don't know, exactly," she answered eventually. "I just feel… I feel like we're _supposed_ to be here right now. Especially now. I feel like something's coming."

The captain tensed. "Is it danger?" If Gihren found them…

Lalah shook her head. "No," she answered. "It will be coming to help us. I _think_."

Char scoffed as the two entered the lift to take them to hangar level. "I'd take your hunch over M'Quve's certainty many times over." He smiled once again, and Lalah couldn't help but return it.

/**/

Captain Mark Hazen was a short, pudgy man that scowled a good deal. At least, that's all that Bright could tell about him, as he hadn't stopped glowering at everything in sight since coming aboard the _White Base_ earlier that morning to conference with its commander. He spoke quickly, and loudly for that matter, but not often rashly; Bright knew just by listening to his input that the man was an experienced officer, something Bright could not say about himself. No doubt that was part of the reason for his disgruntled attitude: Not only did he outrank Bright, but he had far more experience and discipline. He knew what he was doing.

So when Bright refused to consider Captain Hazen's advice to turn toward any of the shoal zones, or at least to avoid Side 6, he was understandably irritated.

"What are you thinking?" he hissed. "With the Federation out of the way, Side 6 is going to be next in Zeon's sights! You're purposely putting us in harm's way!"

Bright shook his head, his eyes still on the map of the Earth Sphere that was displayed on his cabin's viewscreen. "That may be so, but Side 6 also represents the only chance we have to resupply. Beyond that, the Side 6 government will have no reason to alert Zeon to our presence, whereas being discovered anywhere else will lead to immediate capture."

"The government may not snitch on us, but do you imagine Zeon doesn't have spies in Side 6 already?" Hazen snarled. "They'll know the minute we pull into dock!"

Bright frowned; the point was good, and probably true. Still, he trusted his pilots, though he didn't dare explain the reasons behind that trust to the captain. "If you distrust our decision, you are free to take your ship elsewhere, Captain. No one is forcing you to join us."

Captain Hazen raised his brow. "'Our' decision? You're still asking your _crew_ for advice? Commander Bright, if you think pilots and civilians know enough to set you on a safe course—"

"If you knew my pilots, you'd trust them as well," Bright interrupted. "Side 6 may have its dangers, but so does any other location, and even if the ships are discovered, the location provides an opportunity to slip away into the civilian population. Moreover, no matter what Zeon knows, Side 6 is still neutral, and Gihren has no choice but to recognize and accept that fact. At least for now," the commander added hastily.

Hazen snorted. "How long will that last, Commander? Side 6 has already had a Zeon force infiltrate one of its colonies, and even try to nuke it. Do you think they'll hesitate to try again, now that the Federation's gone?"

Bright's eyes widened. "When was this?"

"The attack?" Hazen shrugged. "Just before Solomon, based on the rumors I heard. It was supposed to be top secret, but that's never stopped the important news from leaking out. And considering what Zeon's already done…" The captain leaned over Bright's desk. "I'm telling you, Commander, you don't want to do this."

Bright closed his eyes in contemplation. At length, though, he sighed. "I'll bring your points up with the crew, but I don't expect a change in opinion. If you would rather not join the _White Base_ at Side 6, I suggest that you either make your own way from now on or wait outside the neutral zone for us. The choice is yours."

Hazen stared at the commander for a moment. Then he growled, "For your sake, Commander Bright, I'll keep the _Argos_ outside the neutral zone as a lookout, and if I see anything I'll send you a warning. But when they come to drag you off to Zum City, don't expect me to stand up to them. I'll be long gone if they decide to send a fleet."

Bright nodded as Hazen stood. "Thank you," he said, standing also. "We can't expect any more than that from you. We're in the same situation, after all."

/**/

"Heidfeld, keep up! You're falling too far back!"

"Sorry, sir, that Rick Dom nearly got me."

"He wouldn't have if—"

"Sir!"

Two brilliant flashes, blinding even through closed eyelids; Jenna's team, caught in the crossfire as three Zakus and a Rick Dom rushed toward a _Magellan_-class vessel. Jenna got lucky yet again: If it had been the _Zekes_ shooting at her team, both she and her remaining teammate would have been killed already. But the fact that two of her comrades, her best friends, had been obliterated by stray shots from the _Magellan_—pink streaks of unfriendly fire, still flying even as the Zeon suits slipped into their target's defensive barrage and turned the bridge into a pile of glowing slag—spurred Jenna's grief. "_Sir_!"

"Jenna, you're hesitating! We have to move!"

Jenna blinked, her eyes still recovering from two reactor detonations as she tried to understand what her teammate was telling her. "Cameron… wha—"

"_Move_!" The other GM braked suddenly, boosted back to Jenna's coasting suit and grabbed it. As Jenna jolted from the impact, Cameron accelerated to maximum, dragging Jenna with him. "Snap out of it, Jenna! You're a sitting duck!"

The whiplash had done it; clearing her head with a vigorous shake, Jenna gripped her controls more firmly. "Sorry! I'm all right now!"

Cameron's GM let go of its counterpart as Jenna accelerated to match it, again rocketing at full speed toward Solomon fortress. The two pilots fell silent again as the objective returned to the forefront. Jenna would grieve, but Cameron had forced her to realize that now was not the time.

Amazingly, the two were practically unopposed. The Zeon forces had been severely weakened by the Solar System weapon, but even with that advantage, the Federation had faced stiff resistance from the remainder of the garrison. The difference from only a few minutes before indicated a shift: Zeon was abandoning Solomon. It was a thought that gave Jenna hope that the conflict was soon to finish.

Even as she considered it, though, Jenna knew she was deluding herself. Had Zeon _ever_ given up so easily?

This mindset served her well when the first Minovsky-clouded rumor of the Zeon rearguard made its way over the radio frequencies.

"—nster! It's—our weapons! Beams won't—I ca—aaahhh!"

"Sir, so—bile arm—_bakemonoka_!"

"It—three _Sala_—t once! We ca—"

Jenna clamped her GM's hand on Cameron's suit's calf, as he accelerated slightly in front of her. "These signals are from ten o'clock, low. Should we—"

"Do you want to die? Zeon's already abandoning the base. There's no reason to throw our lives away now." Cameron's voice was grim. "Either the ships will take it out, or it will cut through the fleet and give the rest of Zeon a chance to escape. Eventually it will be gone anyway."

Jenna nodded, though she knew Cameron couldn't see her. "All right, then. On to Sol—"

The last shot was a terrible surprise. Drifting, lacking all limbs but one, left for dead by friend and foe alike, a lone Zaku drifted, indiscernible in all the battle debris. It had a bazooka, and a clear shot at the two distracted pilots. Jenna was just lucky once again that she wasn't in the lead.

It was just one more blinding flash, one more blast that knocked her GM far off her course and out of the Zaku's sight. But in that moment, the last of her friends had evaporated.

"C-Cameron? … Came—"

"—ron!" Jenna's eyes flew open as she threw herself forward against the straps that kept her from floating off of her cot while she slept. A brief struggle ensued as the mind fought to subdue the body's panicked adrenaline rush, before Jenna could finally lay her head back down with a sigh. "Just another dream," she muttered.

It wasn't the first time that she'd dreamed of Solomon. The first two days on the _Rio Grande_ had been hell for her, as even her waking hours had been filled with exploding mobile suits, friendly-fire incidents, and dying friends. Thankfully for her ego, she was hardly the only rookie pilot on board (the Federation having only just begun to mass-produce its mobile suits), so the ship's psychiatrist had no shortage of patients during the fleet's race to Luna II. The news that the captain of the ship still cried in his sleep over the Battle of Loum hadn't hurt, either. But the fact that she was not alone did not alleviate her situation much, if at all. She was the lone survivor of her team, and probably of her whole ship, all because of luck. And luck wasn't known for keeping the same favorites for long.

Shuddering, Jenna undid the straps on her cot and floated into an upright sitting position facing the opposite wall. Covering her face in her hands, the woman took a shaky breath and tried to calm herself. "Easy," she muttered to herself. "Just take it easy. It's over. There won't be any more of that." She glanced ruefully at the cell door. "As long as I'm in here, at least I won't be out _there_ again."

But, she thought then, being on board a ship that would soon be hunted by the entire Earth Sphere couldn't be safe, could it?

/**/

When the _White Base_ had been greeted by Side 6 officials that didn't bother to mask their fear of Zeon reprisals, Bright knew that there would be trouble that he would do better to avoid. Now, as the ship docked at Baldur Bay next to a _Musai_ and a _Zanzibar_, he found himself wondering just how painful a bullet to the head really was. Staring out through the bridge window in shock and despair, Bright thought for a moment that the firing squad had already come for them; then Kai's voice helped to clear his head: "We're dead, aren't we? We can't get out of this one!"

"Keep that opinion to yourself, Ensign," snapped the commander, turning away from the bridge windows to glare at the pilot. "We're not done for yet. Mirai—"

"It's Char's ship."

Everyone on the bridge stared at Amuro as he gazed out at the _Zanzibar_-class vessel beside them. Then Sayla turned back to the bridge window with an unreadable expression. "Char?"

Bright eyed Amuro in worry. "Are you sure?" he demanded.

Amuro nodded, his eyes narrowed. Then, suddenly, his expression changed. He _smiled_. "I think this will work out perfectly."

The crew stared at the pilot in disbelief. Bright recovered first. "What do you mean?" he demanded. "You're talking about _Char_. The _Red Comet_, Char. The same Char that we've been fighting since this ship launched! This is not good news!"

Amuro shook his head. "He's not hostile. He doesn't even know we're here. We just have to deal with the _Musai_ for now."

The commander blinked in surprise. Then he grinned in relief. "Then we'd best leave while we can. Mirai, prepare—"

"Sir, we can't leave." Bright's expression hardened as Amuro added, "I think this is why we had to come here."

"To be _captured_?" Bright snarled, eyes narrowed. "Are you out of your _mind_, Ensign?"

Amuro's grin fell as the boy stiffened under his commander's disapproval. "You don't need to worry about that, sir. Believe me." His eyes came unfocused for a moment then, and Bright stared at him until he focused again. "We'll be fine. Lalah knows we're here now, so Char's soon to know. Just keep the man in that _Musai_ busy until we get back."

"Wha—'Get back?' From where?" Bright pushed off from the window toward Amuro as the still-distracted pilot turned to leave the bridge, grabbing his arm. "Ensign Amuro, you will explain yourself!"

Amuro's eyes, unfocused once more, suddenly shot to Bright's. "Sorry, sir, I'm not making any sense, am I?" He shook his head to clear it. "We need help. And I think he does, too. He feels… well, 'panicked' isn't the right word, but… he's running, sir." Bright stared at the boy as his eyes slid away again. "We need to meet him. I'll go."

Bright let Amuro go, mainly due to surprise at the pilot's outlandish assertion. Before Amuro could leave the bridge, however, Sayla reached out to him. "Amuro, take me with you." The boy blinked, but Sayla's expression must have decided him; he quickly nodded, and before Bright could say a word, the two were gone.

The commander stared after them long after the lift door had closed. Then he finally said, "Alert the deck crew to ready a buggy. And send a message to the _Argos_ regarding the situation."

Fraw Bow quickly turned to her console to carry out her orders, but when she turned back to the commander, the look in her eyes was not encouraging. "Buggy is away, sir," she began. "But the _Argos_ has been boarded by a Zeon task force. We're being told to surrender the _White Base_ to them immediately."

Bright paled. "There are more of them outside?" he muttered. Turning toward the bridge windows once again, he narrowed his eyes at the Zeon vessels. 'We won't be able to break through them all unless we're willing to take losses. Amuro, you'd better be right about this.' Deciding not to rely solely on his pilot's intuition, the commander turned back to his crew. "All hands, level two battle stations. All pilots on standby."

/**/

"Your arrival was completely unexpected, sir," the young man said as he led Char and Lalah through the Flanagan Institute—empty save for themselves. "Dr. Flanagan does not trust surprises, of course. He evacuated the building hours ago. I'm afraid I pulled the short straw to stay behind and guard the place."

Behind his mask, Char raised his brow. Did this boy even know how to hold a gun? 'Guard duty' was out of place, to be sure. "You are to report to Dr. Flanagan whenever he returns, I assume." The young man nodded. "Then you must tell him that Her Excellency Kycilia was murdered by Supreme Commander Gihren. He will understand the implications."

Char's guide halted, his eyes widening in shock; the captain instantly regretted telling the truth to him as a security risk, but he knew that Dr. Flanagan himself would be impossible to find, now that his paranoia had been (justifiably) triggered. Before Char could warn the man to keep his mouth shut, though, the guide's expression hardened. "This way, sir," he said, quickly turning in another direction entirely and walking away before Char could ask for an explanation. Reigning in his annoyance, Char followed the young man's lead, with Lalah right behind him.

This portion of the 'tour' was spent in silence, as the guide walked too fast for Char to keep up and ask questions at the same time. Several corridors and many minutes later, Char learned why, when the man unlocked a door marked "Top Secret" and held it open for the other two. As Char stepped inside, he glanced around in curiosity and immediately stopped to stare at the silver mobile armor that greeted him. "Well," he said after a moment, "_this_ is impressive."

The guide shook his head. "This is actually our secondary model, the Braw Bro. The Elmeth is far more advanced." The young man eyed at the armor for a moment with a frown. "Still, it uses much of the same technology that powers the Elmeth. The psycommu system in particular is identical." The man turned toward Char, his gaze determined. "Dr. Flanagan developed this technology for Lady Kycilia. If Gihren has already disposed of her, a purge is bound to begin, and Dr. Flanagan won't want to be caught in it. Nor will he want his technology and research in Gihren's hands." He glanced back at the Braw Bro. "You can use this. We should transport it to your ship immediately."

Char frowned in surprise, but quickly nodded. "I assume that Dr. Flanagan took his papers with him."

"He wouldn't trust me with something that important," answered the guide, managing a self-deprecating smile. "He took all of the most important information on Newtype research. The papers regarding the technology he derived from that research were destroyed, as were most of the weapons. He left this one because he thought it might be useful to you, and he was sure that you were the commander of the ships that arrived."

"Dr. Flanagan is a well-informed man," Char complimented. He gazed at the Braw Bro for a moment longer, before turning his attention to Lalah. "Well, now we don't have to rely on your Elmeth alone—Lalah, what's wrong?"

The woman, distracted, didn't answer immediately; when Char put his hand on her shoulder, she jumped. "Lalah, are you all right?"

Lalah nodded hastily. "I'm fine, Captain. I didn't mean to worry you."

Char frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the girl answered. She smiled. "We might have just run into some good luck."

/**/

Amuro knew that driving around the colony in a Federation uniform wasn't wise, but he couldn't bring himself to care. For the first time in weeks, he was ecstatic. 'Lalah,' he thought, 'we'll finally meet again.'

Immediately after thinking this, though, Amuro glanced over at the passenger seat, guiltily realizing that he had no right to think so much about Lalah when Sayla was still with him. Sayla, though, was too distracted to notice the glance Amuro was giving her, and the boy found himself wondering what could possibly make her so nervous. "Sayla," he asked, "why did you want to come with me?"

The other pilot glanced at Amuro, frowning. "I guess I needed to see what it was that you were so happy about. I'd get nervous, just sitting around waiting for news."

It was a lie, and Sayla knew as soon as she said it that Amuro knew better than to believe her; the boy read her emotions too well. Even so, Amuro chose not to press. Smiling, he said, "This will work out fine. At least, we shouldn't be in too much trouble. Even if Char is hostile, Lalah won't let him hurt us."

Sayla quirked a brow. "Lalah?"

Amuro looked away, unsure of how to answer. "I… uh, I met her here, the last time we were at Side 6. I think she was at Texas when we fought Char there. She's a subordinate of his, I think."

"And you know her well enough to tell if she'll let Char do what he wants to do with us or not?" Amuro turned back to Sayla quickly, his mouth open to defend himself, but Sayla was grinning playfully. "I take it she's a Newtype?"

Amuro nodded, turning his attention back to the road. "You'll meet her soon."

The drive was almost over, anyway. Amuro soon pulled off of the road next to a lakefront lodge, where he parked the buggy and turned off the engine. Getting out, he looked around and found everything as he remembered it: the sparkling water, the green grass, and the swan—Amuro blinked as he saw the swan. He was almost certain it was the same one that he had seen with Lalah. Sayla noticed his gaze and waited while he pondered, until the swan disappeared behind a clump of tall grass. Then she interrupted his thoughts: "Are you sure they will come here?"

Amuro turned toward the lodge itself and led Sayla to the porch facing the lake as he answered, "If Char lets Lalah drive again, she'll come this way. Even if not, I think he sets a lot of store by what she has to say." He glanced back at Sayla, who eyed him skeptically. "I _think_," he repeated, uncertainty returning to his voice.

/**/

"Could we send Cartwright ahead?" Lalah asked suddenly as she drove toward the spaceport. Char, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced at the woman as she added, "We need to make a stop."

The captain inspected his ensign's expression before nodding. "There's no reason not to," he replied, though Lalah could tell that he had begun to feel uneasy as of late; she thought she knew the reason, too. "Mr. Cartwright," Char said into the radio at his side, "go on ahead and deliver the package without us. Putting it on board the _Zanzibar_-class would be best. Tell Colonel M'Quve that we will be along shortly."

"Absolutely, sir," the guide from the Flanagan Institute replied. Soon after, Lalah turned off the main urban road, while the truck that had been following them sped onwards toward the spaceport.

Lalah kept her speed as constant as she could, fighting the urge to speed up. She knew where she was headed now, and was surprised to find how excited she was at the prospect of returning—as well as seeing the boy she expected to find there again.

At the same time, though, the young woman could feel Char's unease increase by leaps and bounds as they approached their destination. She sensed that he felt something familiar waiting for him there, and didn't like it. "Captain, don't be so tense," she admonished gently. "This is an opportunity."

Char shook his head. "I feel like I'm about to face the Gundam in battle," he replied. "This sensation… this _pressure_… It's got to be dangerous. Be careful, Lalah."

The woman grinned. "Of course, Captain," she assured him. "But I don't think I will need to be _too_ cautious. I think this will be the stroke of luck we've been hoping for since Granada."

Char's frown deepened. "Very little luck comes of unnecessary danger," he told the girl. Unfortunately for him, this only caused Lalah to smile wider at her captain's expense, and Char turned from her shaking his head. "I mean it, Lalah. This is serious…" The masked man leaned forward. "Is that a _Federation_ vehicle?"

The two had by that time reached the lakefront lodge, and Char's disbelief increased as Lalah pulled up beside the other vehicle and parked. Before the captain could demand an explanation, the woman exited the car, rushing to the portico. "Amuro!"

"Lalah?" replied the boy, appearing around the corner of the building, a huge smile on his face. "Lalah!"

Then a blonde woman, dressed like Amuro in a Federation uniform, appeared beside him, her curious eyes taking Lalah in. The tension suddenly rose, but not between Lalah and the newcomer; Lalah felt Char's emotions leap, as he jumped out of the car behind her. "Artesia?"

The blonde's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, before lowering. "Hello again… Brother."

It was, apparently, Amuro's turn to stare.

/**/

Commander Bright would have felt sorry for Cameron Bloom's position, if he hadn't been feeling so sorry for himself and his crew. The situation had been steadily deteriorating since Amuro and Sayla left the ship, about an hour before, with a transmission from the Zeon _Musai_ demanding the surrender of the _White Base_, followed shortly thereafter by the arrival of Side 6 government officials attempting to figure out how to keep the peace between the two groups without resorting to violence themselves and possibly angering the Zeon government. The bickering between the two groups, with the _White Base_ caught in the middle, had gone in several circles already without showing any sign of slowing down, even as Bright and his crew tried to explain their own case to Side 6 and refute the Zeon claims. Cameron Bloom, who had insisted on being present as part of the Side 6 delegation, was apparently the only politician present that was actively working with the _White Base_'s best interests at heart; as Cameron was a rather easy man to read, the Zeon commander, Colonel M'Quve, had quickly determined that Cameron had to go.

But to his credit, Cameron was proving to be exceptionally difficult to remove from the negotiations, even as his own superiors decided to follow M'Quve's lead in order to keep the peace just that much longer. His face still graced the viewscreen on the bridge of the _White Base_, where he was doing his absolute best to confound both the Zeon colonel and his own superiors into leaving the former Federation vessel alone, or at the very least forcing Zeon to fire the first shot, should a battle be inevitable. Bright appreciated the attempt; M'Quve was less pleased.

So, when Cameron called for Side 6 peacekeepers to guard both vessels, ostensibly for the benefit of the colony citizens, M'Quve waved his words aside with an irritated shake of his head. "Mr. Bloom, perhaps you would be willing to waste your colony cluster's limited resources and manpower to shield your Federation friends from the inevitable, but I don't believe your colleagues, or your government, will agree with that decision. Fortunately for those of us with sound heads upon our shoulders, you are not in charge of Side 6; indeed, you are not even in charge of your delegation. As if this alone were not enough to make a fool out of you, Mr. Bloom, there happen to be several Zeon soldiers in your colony already, to whom I granted leave the moment we docked. I do not suggest that you attempt to round them up."

Cameron glared into the viewscreen. "We won't have to round them up if you respect the authority of the Side 6 government and follow its direction while within its jurisdiction. More to the point—"

His rebuttal was interrupted when both Marker Clan and a Zeon officer on board the _Musai_ called out, "Truck approaching, sir!"

Bright didn't bother to hear M'Quve's response, but instead turned toward Marker. "Where is it going?"

"It's approaching our docks," Marker replied. "I'm putting it on screen."

As the computer attempted to determine the contents of the truck from what little the cameras of the _White Base_ could see of its exterior, Bright scowled. "Of course _Zeon_ can be resupplied here. _We_, on the other hand…"

"The truck is entering the hangar deck of the _Zanzibar_-class," Marker reported heavily. "Zeon delivery."

"Well, we knew from the start that it wasn't ours," growled Bright. Leaning back in his seat, he glanced at the rest of the bridge crew and sighed. "Amuro, what did you get us into?"

Almost as soon as he said this, Marker's voice called out again. "The buggy's returning, sir!"

Bright's eyes narrowed as he thought of what he'd like to do to his wayward ensign upon his return, but when Job John spoke up, his thoughts froze: "Amuro's not in the car, sir! There's Sayla, and there's… it's a Zeon commander driving, sir!"

Fraw couldn't contain herself. "Has she been captured?" the girl demanded, leaping from her seat.

Bright didn't bother to reprimand her. Instead he focused on Colonel M'Quve in his viewscreen, as the Zeon officer received the same information. The colonel's response made the Federation commander's face fall even farther: "So Char caught himself a Feddie, did he?"

Even Cameron reacted to this. "Char?" he demanded, his own eyes widening. "The Red Comet, Char?"

"So much for diplomacy," growled Bright behind clenched teeth, regretting that he ever listened to Amuro's assurances.

Job John's voice interrupted Bright's depressed musings. "Sir, another vehicle is following the buggy. It's Amuro, sir! But…" Job's voice fell again as he finished. "There's a woman in the driver's seat. A Zeon ensign by her uniform, sir."

Bright closed his eyes, not bothering to hide his despair. "Turn off the viewscreen," he ordered. "I don't want to hear any more."

"Commander, I wouldn't—" began Cameron in an attempt to keep Bright from leaving the negotiations, but Marker's response to orders cut the politician off. The smug face of Colonel M'Quve also disappeared, leaving the bridge crew of the _White Base_ alone with their own thoughts once again.

Bright sighed in defeat once again. Then, in resignation, he asked Fraw, "Are Hayato and Kai still in their machines?"

Fraw answered almost immediately. "They're still on standby, as ordered."

"Good." The commander swallowed, unsure of himself. "All hands," he said then, "prepare for combat."

The crew started in surprise. "Sir," Mirai began, "we can't—"

"We have to!" snapped Bright in irritation. "We can't be caught here!"

Mirai blinked in surprise, but after a moment she nodded slowly, understanding the commander's position. "Yes, sir," she murmured sadly, turning toward the helm once more.

"Bring the engines to maximum power," ordered Bright. "We will need to move fast once we get—"

_Wait!_

Bright stopped midsentence, blinking in surprise as he glanced around. He could have sworn that he'd heard Amuro's voice…

Mirai had reacted as well, stepping back from the helm as she shook her head to clear it. "Sir," she said slowly, "should we do as he says?"

Fraw glanced up from her work at the communications console. "What do you mean, Mirai? Who?"

Bright glanced at Fraw in contemplation. "Amuro," he answered for the helmswoman, tapping his foot. "Amuro said to wait…"

"Sir," Job John said suddenly, "the second vehicle has stopped in front of portside hatch two. Amuro is getting out; it looks like he's going to report in."

The commander hesitated for a moment, but then decided—again—to take a leap of faith. "Belay that order, Mirai. Keep the engines cold." Activating the PA system, Bright accessed the portion of the ship surrounding portside hatch two and said, "Security team, please direct Ensign Amuro Ray to the bridge immediately upon his return."

"Apparently the Zeon woman is coming, as well," Job added, checking his monitors.

"What about Sayla and Char?" asked Bright, wondering what more to expect from the strange circumstances.

"Their buggy has stopped in front of Colonel M'Quve's _Musai_, sir," answered Job John, shaking his head. "I'm not sure we can hope to recover her."

Bright gritted his teeth again. "Amuro," he murmured, "you'd better have some explanation for this."

He didn't have to wait long; within another minute, Amuro arrived on the bridge, accompanied by the Zeon ensign and three security officers that clearly did not appreciate her presence. Bright leaned over and glared at Amuro, who was smiling fit to burst. 'If his expression is any indication, this will be good news,' Bright thought to himself, before saying aloud, "Well, what happened with your 'negotiations'? Why is Sayla with Char Aznable, and who is this woman?"

Amuro glanced at his companion, who smiled coyly at the commander. "I am Ensign Lalah Sune, formerly of Lady Kycilia's 300th Independent Corps. I serve under Captain Char Aznable."

"As for why Sayla is with Char," added Amuro, "I'm not at liberty to say; you'll have to ask her, sir. But the talk went well, and I think he'll be willing to help us, so long as we're willing to help him."

Bright's brows rose, even as the other crewmembers murmured in surprise. "What does Char want from us?"

Amuro shrugged. "I don't know the specifics, but I think Sayla might. That's for the future, anyway; the immediate problems he faces are pretty much identical to ours."

"We have no wish to serve under Gihren Zabi," added Lalah, her smile replaced by a frown. "I'm afraid he assassinated Lady Kycilia several days ago. The remainder of her forces have either sworn allegiance to Gihren or, like Colonel M'Quve and the captain, fled Zeon altogether."

If the murmurs had been confused before, the shouts of surprise at this news were something else entirely. Bright, for one, found himself to be greatly excited. "Do you mean that Zeon is splintered?" he asked, leaning forward attentively.

"Zeon has always been splintered," replied Lalah. "I tried to avoid the politics of it, but I always knew it was a problem. That's part of what doomed Solomon, you know; or so Captain Char told me."

This sobered Bright as he realized the implications. "So our victories were the result of infighting? And now that the infighting has stopped…"

The bridge grew quiet as everyone saw that Bright's thoughts led to a dark outcome. But Lalah shook her head. "There will be infighting as long as men are willing to follow one leader over another. M'Quve fights in memory of Lady Kycilia, as well as because Gihren nearly killed him in the same ambush that killed her. The captain… The captain fights for his own reasons; I don't really know them, but Artesia might. Er… _Sayla_ might." Lalah smiled sheepishly. "I'm still learning names, I'm afraid."

"So… the colonel is our ally?" Mirai asked, confused.

Fraw spoke up before Lalah could answer. "The _Musai_ is hailing us, sir."

Bright blinked. Then he straightened. "Let's learn the truth of this," he muttered. "Put Colonel M'Quve on screen."

Once again, the viewscreen lit up, but instead of seeing the flowing blue hair and arrogant expression of the Zeon colonel, the hard white mask and helmet of Zeon's most feared pilot greeted the crew of the _White Base_. Smiling, Char Aznable nodded to his viewers. "Crew of the _White Base_, I'm sure you know who I am. I'm also sure that Ensign Lalah has explained the situation to you. Firstly, then, I would like to put the argument between yourselves and my superior behind us; is this acceptable?"

Bright nodded cautiously. "It is," he answered.

Char's smile widened. "Excellent. Secondly, then, I have only two questions. How can you help us, Commander? And how can we help you?"

For the first time in a long while, Bright allowed a smile to creep slowly onto his face. "I think that I like those questions very much, Captain Char Aznable."

/**/

_I might be going out on a limb here, but I don't think this development came as a surprise to anyone. If I'm honest with myself, I probably laid the foreshadowing on a little thick anyway. That said, this little agreement between Char and Bright is only the beginning of the negotiations; there will obviously be more issues to smooth over before any real alliance can be made._

_Please tell me how well you think I've handled this meeting so far. If there are any problems, please let me know._


	5. Allies and Enemies

_Once again, a massive delay (this time longer than usual; I have tried to get a chapter up once a month, but the lovely month of May went by without any such accomplishment), and not much to show for it. Below is simply more build-up. All I can do at this point is apologize._

_As if to make up for it, though, I will point out that there are some cameos here that may or may not become more important as time goes on. I'm not sure just how much I want to involve these characters, as I don't know much about one of them while I've ranted already about the side-story in which we encounter the other, but I'll likely end up using them a lot more than I really intended to when I decided to put them in on a whim. Oh, well; my confusion is your gain, I certainly hope. On with the show._

_Pointless Disclaimer: Hajime Yatate agreed to hand over Gundam if I beat him at Monopoly. Considering that he's the personification of a multi-million dollar company, you can imagine how well that's working out…_

/**/

Captain Mark Hazen was far less pleased about the negotiations than Bright had been; Fraw shook her head upon hearing his answer to Bright's update. "He's very unhappy, sir," she said in what must have been the greatest understatement of her life, holding up the printed card with the decoded message.

Amuro watched as Bright took the card and read it, saying absently as he did so, "Being boarded by people you've been fighting for a year tends to bring out the worst in people." Reading on, he eventually concluded, "Char will have to talk to him personally. He won't listen to me." Glancing up at Lalah, who remained on the _White Base_ for the moment, the commander added, "Will the captain have a problem with that?"

Lalah smiled. "I don't think so, sir," she answered.

Bright nodded, before turning back to Fraw to continue his discussion with Captain Hazen. Lalah used the opportunity to talk with Amuro. "I'm surprised that your commander is taking this as well as he is," she murmured. "I didn't realize that he trusted you enough to negotiate with Zeon forces, either. What is it about you that he trusts so much?"

Amuro's eyes widened. "Do you think I'm untrustworthy?" he asked defensively, but Lalah laughed, putting him at his ease.

"I didn't mean it in that way," she said with a smile. "But you must realize that a commander generally trusts his own judgment long before he'll trust an ensign's."

"Char's a captain, but he trusts you."

Amuro blinked in confusion when Lalah's expression became uncomfortable. "Yes, well… He has his reasons," she said evasively. Then she returned to her question. "So what reason does Commander Bright have?"

The boy thought for a bit. Then he shrugged. "I guess he just believes in Newtypes as much as Char does."

Even he knew this wasn't adequate, but found that he wasn't sure of the answer either. So he tried to puzzle it out for himself while Lalah gazed at him, pondering. "Perhaps," she said after a moment, but she grew a sly smile as she added, "but I think there's more to you than meets the eye, Amuro Ray."

Amuro only shrugged again, but before he could come up with a response, Bright interrupted the conversation once again. "Ensign Lalah Sune," he said, stepping up to the pair, "I would like to thank you for coming aboard. Please send my regards to your captain, as well." Holding out his hand, the commander said, "It was a pleasure to meet you."

Lalah took Bright's hand. "The pleasure was mine, Commander. Thank you for hearing us out."

Bright nodded. Releasing Lalah's hand, he said, "Also, if you could tell Captain Char to return our petty officer, I would very much appreciate it."

Lalah laughed. "Absolutely, sir," she said, saluting as she said so. To Amuro she said, "I'll talk with you soon, I suppose."

Amuro nodded. "Sooner than before," he promised. Lalah nodded in return, before turning toward the lift; the three security personnel and Amuro's gaze followed her until the lift door closed.

The pilot's attention was not allowed to linger any longer than that, as Bright grabbed it immediately. "Amuro, what in the world happened during those talks of yours?"

Amuro reluctantly turned away from the lift and answered, "A lot. More than I can really say." He didn't want to tell Bright what he had learned about 'Artesia' and 'Casval,' that was for certain; it wasn't his business to let that secret out. "But we talked a bit about strategy. And we put forward a few thoughts for the future."

Bright's brow rose. "Such as?"

"The state of Zeon and the Federation," answered Amuro, "and what we can do to fit into that scheme. I don't know what you planned to do after coming to Side 6, sir, but I know that Captain Hazen wanted to fight, and Char wants to do the same thing. Most of what we talked about revolved around the idea of winning any war against Gihren Zabi and removing him."

"He's being rather ambitious, isn't he?" asked the commander. "We don't have enough ships to even dent Zeon's battle strength."

"But he thinks he can get them," Amuro said. He pointed out the bridge window to the _Zanzibar_. "Char took Admiral Dozle's wife and daughter with him when he fled Granada. Who knows how many people would rather support the memory of Dozle than what Gihren has to offer?"

Bright turned sharply to stare at the _Zanzibar_. "There's a Zabi on that thing?" he asked, astounded.

Amuro nodded. "She might be exactly what we need to get some support from Granada or even Side 3 itself."

The commander narrowed his eyes in thought. "Maybe," he said, and Amuro knew just how much he was hoping it was true.

/**/

"There is no longer an issue of contention between our forces and those associated with the former Federation," Char assured Cameron Bloom via the _Hummel_'s viewscreen. As the skeptical official's expression didn't change, the captain added, "If you would like to corroborate that, the commander on board the Trojan Horse—excuse me, the _White Base_—would be happy to explain."

Mr. Bloom just gazed at Char intensely. "Does Colonel M'Quve share similar sentiments?"

Char shrugged. "Personally, he may not agree with the settlement that we have worked out, but professionally he will abide by it. He has given me the authority to negotiate on his behalf, and trusts my judgment." That last was a stretch, of course; M'Quve allowed Char to do as he wished during the discussions, but only because he was bored with the talks himself. He certainly didn't _trust_ Char, but hardly cared what the captain said, so long as it did not bring Gihren Zabi down on them—and the colonel could be reasonably certain that Char would do no such thing.

Cameron Bloom still did not look convinced, but kept his peace regarding Char's assertion. "I will speak with Commander Bright on this matter to corroborate your statement," he said after a moment. "If what you said is true, then we should not have to worry about any unpleasantness from now on. I trust that will be the case."

Char nodded. "It will be," he assured the official, who nodded in return before the connection was terminated.

Turning from the viewscreen, Char smiled at his sister, who stood nearby. "Come along, Artesia. It has been so long, and we've barely been able to speak with the others around. I return to the _Zanzibar_; will you join me?"

Artesia nodded, and turned toward the door as Char exited the bridge, following him as he floated down the corridor. "Brother," she said after a moment, "you don't mean to follow Colonel M'Quve indefinitely, do you?"

Char chuckled. "You know me too well," he said. "Colonel M'Quve has been under Lady Kycilia's command far longer than I have, and he outranks me in the Zeon hierarchy regardless of our factions and divisions. As long as I fight as a member of Lady Kycilia's remnant forces, then, Colonel M'Quve will be my superior."

Artesia scoffed, and as they approached the main hatch she said, "I doubt you will fight in memory of a Zabi forever."

"Probably not," Char conceded, "and if that is the case, I will fight for my own reasons, with or without the colonel. Until that time comes, however, I will remain his subordinate. And I _will_ abide by his decisions, in case you're wondering," he added, as he and his sister stepped out of the _Hummel_ and into the colony dock once more.

Then Char turned toward Artesia again, a curious expression on what she could see of his face. "I have to wonder a few things about you, as well," he said as they floated toward the _White Base_ buggy that was parked nearby. "I never managed to ask how you turned up on that Federation vessel."

Artesia glared at him. "You can only blame yourself for that," she told him. "If you hadn't attacked Side 7, we would have had no reason to evacuate. And we were forced to help run the ship because your men killed most of the crew."

Char's mouth twisted wryly. "I chose the wrong men for the job," he admitted. "I ordered them to infiltrate the colony for reconnaissance, but one of them was a glory-hunting rookie. There wasn't supposed to be an attack, at least until we knew what we were facing."

"Which wouldn't have made a difference for our evacuation," Artesia retorted; Char decided not to argue the point.

"So who is that boy, Amuro? I met him once during our last leave here at Side 6, but I don't know anything about him other than that he knows Lalah, somehow. Why do I get this sense of danger every time I see him?"

Artesia glanced at her brother sidelong as they got into the buggy, with Char on the driver's side. "Amuro is someone else from Side 7 that got dragged into combat," she answered. She hesitated, before finally saying, "He's the Gundam's pilot. That's why you think he's dangerous."

Char, who had just begun to pull forward, nearly wrecked the buggy; the magnetic coating applied to the tires was only just enough to keep it from floating off of the floor of the zero-gravity dock. Getting himself and the buggy under control, Char shook his head vigorously. "That's impossible. Perhaps he piloted it originally, when it was nothing but dead weight in space. But there's no way that that boy is still piloting it now. I fought the Gundam at Texas; only the best could have survived what I threw at it there."

Artesia only shrugged. "Amuro's had a lot of practice since Side 7," she said. "If you'd been using something more powerful than a Zaku back then, we'd all be dead. But by the time Zeon developed something more useful, he'd improved."

"It didn't hurt him that Vice Admiral Dozle had discharged me by that time," Char said, trying to dismiss his rival's abilities. "If they'd given me a Gouf or a Dom while your Trojan Horse was still dragging itself through Earth's gravity, I would have gotten him, to be sure."

"Perhaps," Artesia said, although her expression indicated that she found the idea distasteful; Char made a mental note for future reference to refrain from boasting about his skills in the context of killing his sister's crewmates. Then her eyes saddened. "Instead they gave a Gouf to Ramba Ral."

Char turned his gaze back to his _Zanzibar_, which was growing larger in the buggy's windshield by the moment. "I heard," he said heavily. "I was sorry to learn of his death. He was a fine warrior."

"He died like one," Artesia said. "I don't know if he even planned to win when he came aboard, but he came very close… I think he would have, if he hadn't seen me and gotten distracted."

Char turned toward his sister sharply. "He recognized you?"

Artesia nodded. "It's why he died." She fell silent, then, and Char let her relive her memories in silence as he pulled up to the _Zanzibar_ and parked the buggy.

The moment that the captain stepped out of the buggy, however, Lalah Sune exited the _Zanzibar_ with a smile. "Captain, you certainly took your time. Lady Zenna has demanded to speak with either you or Colonel M'Quve, I'm afraid, but I didn't want to disturb you."

Char smiled at his ensign. "Thank you, Lalah," he said. "Please tell Lady Zenna that I will be with her directly." The girl saluted and quickly turned back into the ship, but before she completely disappeared, she put her head out of the hatch once again.

"Also, Commander Bright requested that Petty Officer Sayla Mass be returned to the _White Base_."

Artesia's eyes widened. "What was I thinking?" she gasped. "I forgot to report in!" To Char she said, "Casval… I hope to see you again soon."

"If we work together, your commander and I, there is no doubt of that," Char answered with a smile. "Take care, Artesia."

"Good-bye," replied the woman, sliding into the driver's seat. Within moments, she had disappeared from Char's sight, and the captain's smile faltered.

"For her sake, if no one else's, please let this agreement stand," he muttered. Then, gritting his teeth, he turned back to the hatchway of the _Zanzibar_ and followed Lalah inside. "Now, Lady Zenna… what seems to be the problem?"

/**/

Minutes ago, there had been a great deal of panic; now, though, there was silence outside her cell. Jenna sighed as she floated, wondering where the rushing crewmembers had gone, what they had been so worried for… hell, she wondered where the ship even _was_, considering that she hadn't been privy to that knowledge. Had Zeon found them? Would the ship be boarded, or simply obliterated? If they captured the ship, would they see her as a victim of their enemy and give her clemency, or would they see her as just another Federation pilot and not bother to differentiate? Or would they not even bother to check the brig and leave her to starve in her cell?

Well, to be honest, she doubted that last part. How would any Zeon inspector even know where the brig was without finding it first? They wouldn't stop going over the ship until they'd catalogued every square millimeter; she wouldn't have to worry about not being found, if Zeon were to capture the ship. Of course, that in itself was dependent on their patience and willingness to lose men in a boarding operation. More likely, she would simply be immolated or exposed to the vacuum when they decided instead to take the ship out with a well-placed mega-particle beam.

It was during her attempts to reject such a pessimistic thought that she heard noise from outside her cell door, which soon translated into the door opening to reveal two security personnel, accompanied by a brown-haired young woman holding a bundle of what looked like clothes. "Jenna Heidfeld?" the woman—girl, really—asked; they had taken her name and rank upon her capture.

"Who else were you expecting?" Jenna replied wryly, crossing her arms. "What is it?"

The girl blinked at the rebuttal, but quickly returned to her reason for coming. "Commander Bright says there's no reason for you to be here. He's releasing you."

Jenna's brow quirked. "He's not worried that I'll tell Zeon or someone where we are to save myself from getting taken in with the rest of you?"

The girl's eyes narrowed as the security personnel clutched their weapons more tightly. "If you did, I'd wonder what you were doing in the Federation military in the first place. You have no reason to worry about being… how did you put it? 'Taken with the rest of us'? You don't get what I'm saying. You're being released. From the _ship_."

Jenna's eyes widened in panic. "Wait just a minute! I don't even know where we are! You're not just going to put me into a normal suit and throw me out of an airlock, are you?"

"If we were, would we have wasted our food on you?" the girl answered, irritated. "We're docked at Baldur Bay, in Side 6. From here, you can pretty much start over, if you want. Or, if not, you can probably charter a shuttle to Luna II or Earth, or to anywhere else. Of course, if you go back to the Federation, they'll ask you where we went; that can't be helped, but we'd _appreciate_ it"—and here the girl's gaze hardened—"if you waited until they asked, rather than blabbering about it the first chance you get. So…" The girl tossed the bundle into the cell, which Jenna caught easily in the zero-gravity environment. "You'd best dress as a civilian as long as you're here. Commander Bright made a private agreement with one of the government officials here to provide you with some local currency; you'll find it in a packet in that bundle."

Jenna stared at the girl. "Why would he do that?" she blurted.

"I don't know, considering how ungrateful you're being," retorted the girl. When Jenna looked appropriately sheepish, the girl said, "We'll wait down the hall while you change. Then we'll take you to the hatch and set you on your way."

The girl began to turn away, but Jenna stopped her. "Wait! What are you going to do?"

"The crew?" asked the girl. When Jenna nodded, she shrugged. "We'll fight," she said simply. "I'm not going to tell you anything specific."

"I don't expect you to," replied the pilot, shaking her head. "But how can you fight at all? You're one ship—"

"Don't ask," one of the guards said in distaste. "You don't want to know."

Jenna stared at the man for a moment, before turning her gaze back to the girl. "You're fighting Zeon, right? Even in such dire circumstances…"

The girl looked at the pilot in concern as the older woman's expression became confused and conflicted. "Who else would we be fighting?" she began slowly. "The Federation's not going to help us, but they won't be a target, either. The enemy will always be Zeon… the Zabis, anyway."

Jenna didn't notice the girl's addendum, being too busy wondering about her own position in this situation. Could she really run to the safety of anonymity in Side 6, or to a Federation that had already surrendered to Zeon? Certainly, she had followed their orders to attempt to intercept the _White Base_, but now… there was no Federation officer in sight that could keep her from making her own decision. As far as Luna II and Jaburo—or what was left of it; rather, Dakar—were concerned, she was either captured or missing-in-action, and there was no reason for them to suspect anything different… unless she alerted them otherwise. Should she?

Finally, she came to a decision. Raising her eyes to meet the girl's again, she said, "My first sortie was in the Battle of Solomon; my second was against you. I've never shot an enemy down outside of simulation. I was nearly killed at Solomon because I couldn't pay attention to my surroundings. But…" She took a breath. "If you plan to fight, I can't just turn away. Zeon killed my father, and my family would never forgive me if I didn't take this chance."

"What are you saying?" asked the girl, although Jenna was sure that she already knew the answer; she just wanted the pilot to clarify.

Jenna obliged her. "May I speak with your commander? I want to help you out."

/**/

Admiral Aiguille Delaz stared out at the rows of _Salamis_- and _Magellan_-class warships docked in Luna II with an irritated frown. Looking out over the vessels from the dock's control center, the Zeon commander turned to a nearby Federation major and demanded, "All of them are completely disarmed, correct?"

"Of course, sir," replied the major nervously; Delaz noted that he was sweating profusely, which only added to the admiral's distaste. "And their Minovsky reactors have been removed as well, as per Supreme Commander Gihren's orders."

Delaz nodded curtly before returning his attention to the ships. "Were those armaments included in the estimates that your people sent to us before this inspection?"

The major hesitated. "I… I can't say with any certainty, sir," he answered evasively. "If our men did their jobs, then they were included, but with the chaos of preparing for your arrival, they might have been over—"

"Are you telling me to trust men who would rather see Zeon burn than serve it?" the admiral snarled, glaring once again at the hapless Federation officer. "How can I be sure that your men did their jobs if you weren't there to make sure of it yourself? If these numbers aren't accurate according to the census we're taking right now, I can't be certain that your men didn't manage to smuggle some arms away from Luna II. If that is the case, Major, I need not warn you of the consequences." Delaz held up a slip of paper. "If these numbers are not accurate, I will have your head."

The major was visibly shuddering at the Zeon admiral's wrath, but he was spared further fright by the interruption of an alert from the control room's viewscreen. Delaz activated the screen immediately, and started at the visage that greeted him. "Your Excellency!"

Gihren Zabi nodded. "Aiguille, my friend, it has been some time. Forgive me for interrupting your work; it will only be for a moment. However, it regards a matter of extreme importance to me."

"Of course, Your Excellency," replied the admiral, straightening solemnly. "Whatever you require, I will do my utmost to see it done."

Gihren nodded again. "I require information regarding the Federation's Project V. Obviously I am interested in the technology that the Federation has managed to develop—and I assure you, so are our military contractors—but I am more interested in Federation records of the current crew of the project's warship, as well as any information those records might contain that will hint at where this 'Trojan Horse' is now. I am already aware that her commander refused to muster at Luna II," the supreme commander added for Delaz's benefit.

The admiral saluted. "Absolutely, Your Excellency. I will ensure that you receive both the information and our analysis of its contents, in the hopes that you will be able to act more quickly to apprehend the Trojan Horse."

Gihren smiled. "Thank you, Aiguille. I knew I could count on you."

Delaz simply replied with a smart "Sieg Zeon!" before the connection was cut.

As soon as the viewscreen went black, the admiral turned to the Federation major. "I want as much information as your access allows on Project V, and the current crew of the project's warship."

"Uh, yes, sir," replied the major, activating a nearby computer console. "However, I should warn you that the best records were kept at Jaburo. If the database is still functional, you might—"

"I am interested in the records you have here at Luna II," snapped Delaz impatiently. "If there are more at Jaburo, we shall find them later. Now quit stalling!"

/**/

Gihren smiled as Admiral Maharaja Karn's face appeared on his viewscreen, expressing equal surprise as that of Admiral Delaz only moments before. "Admiral Karn, it is a pleasure to see you well. I trust your recovery efforts at Jaburo are proceeding as planned."

"Of course, Your Excellency!" answered Admiral Karn, recovering quickly. "Although Operation British II failed to strike Jaburo directly, it is clear that the operation demolished most of the Federation's ability to wage war planet-side. We will soon have everything spared by the operation in our hands. The Earth Federation will never trouble our Earth-bound forces again."

"So much for the Earth-born elite," Gihren commented with a satisfied smile. Then he sobered. "Admiral, I need you to do something for me."

"Of course, Your Excellency."

"You know of the Federation's Project V, I presume?" The admiral nodded curtly. "Perhaps you are not aware, but the warship built for that project, which our forces dubbed the 'Trojan Horse,' refused to muster at Luna II as per my orders to the Federation. I am interested in as much information as you can obtain regarding Project V, that warship, and its current crew. Your colleague Admiral Delaz is currently digging for leads at Luna II"—Gihren ignored Karn's snort of derision, having expected it; the competition between the men was something of a legend within the upper echelons of the Zeon space forces—"but I doubt I will learn anything of value without the records at Jaburo. Tell me, have you recovered the computer databases?"

Admiral Karn nodded. "Yes, Your Excellency; they were among our first priorities. Their records are no doubt badly damaged and incomplete, but nonetheless, I will set my best men to this task. All records of Project V that we can obtain will soon be in your hands, Your Excellency."

Gihren smiled warmly. "Thank you, Admiral. I know you will do your utmost. Please give my regards to your young daughter."

Karn's stern expression melted. "Oh, Your Excellency, Haman will be so honored! Of course, sir, I shall."

Gihren nodded then. "Sieg Zeon."

"Sieg Zeon!"

The connection closed, and Gihren's smile disappeared. In truth, he was disgusted with his current course of action; demanding such information regarding Project V reminded him far too much of his sister's unhealthy obsession with the Gundam. But it was precisely _because_ of that obsession that Gihren found his decision to be a good one. Kycilia's determination might well have rubbed off on her subordinates, particularly Char Aznable, who had been the one to discover the truth about Project V in the first place. And if that was the case, there was a chance that Kycilia's renegade forces could seek out the Trojan Horse as an ally, should they be interested in resisting Gihren's rule—a scenario that was all the more likely with Char Aznable's identity no longer a secret. Thus, any clue as to the location of the Trojan Horse could lead to the capture or destruction of all of Gihren's enemies at once.

The supreme commander turned to Cecilia, who stood at his side as usual. "When and if either Admiral Delaz or Admiral Karn reports within the next hour, fetch me immediately."

The secretary saluted as Gihren stood and began to walk out of the room. "Absolutely, Your Excellency."

/**/

_Yep, after all the whining I did about side-stories, I put in Admiral Delaz. Despite the plot holes, could-be-better writing, and other assorted problems of _0083_, the fact remains that Delaz is too interesting of a character to pass up. It helps that, unlike the bevy of "Red Baron" lookalikes that side-stories produce (which are only problematic simply because their numbers stretch the limits of Suspension of Disbelief), it is logical that Zeon's space forces featured plenty of competent, if not brilliant, commanders that simply didn't make it into the spotlight because they didn't get killed by the _White Base_ and its pilots. Really, it's an identical situation to the one regarding the innumerable soldiers who exist but don't get a spotlight in the original series; in this case, though, the side-story gives me a name to work with._

_Yes, I'm a hypocrite. But Delaz is cool; I couldn't pass up the opportunity._

_Also, if I screw up Admiral Maharaja Karn, please bear with me. All I know about him is what I read off of Wikipedia, which is next to nothing, since it only says that he led the exiles on _Axis_, and then died after a few years (it gives the year, but I failed to memorize it). This basically means that I'll be building his character from scratch, so if I stray from the material in which he's already present, I apologize in advance._

_Once again, I've uploaded a slow chapter, with little in the way of interesting stuff. However, there is hope on the horizon! For the last several months, I've been hung up on rewriting several scenes whose original development, I later discovered, depended on a massive plot hole. I am pleased to announce that the rewriting has finally been completed, meaning that I can focus on new material. To celebrate, as well as to make up for the lovely (and fruitless) month of May, I plan to upload another chapter this month._


	6. Clearing the Air

_When I promised a second chapter this month, I truly did expect to have it uploaded long before now. Again, I apologize for my lack of motivation. I hope against hope that the following is worth the wait._

_Pointless Disclaimer: The AMV-haters at Bandai own Gundam, unworthy though they are. I look forward to the day I can wrest ownership from their hands, but until then, I own nothing._

/**/

The situation between the rogue vessels was not a pleasant one. Although there had been a tentative agreement between the ship commanders regarding mutual assistance in the effort to avoid detection by Zeon forces, divisions could not be pasted over so easily; indeed, before the group had even left Baldur Bay, Captain Hazen and Colonel M'Quve were at each other's throats about where the group should seek shelter next, an argument that was made worse by the fact that the captain was still angry about his _Salamis_ being boarded by the colonel's forces outside of the neutral zone. Captain Char and Commander Bright had been more civil with one another, and had tried to mediate the argument to the best of their ability, but the end of the bickering came only with the presence of Lady Zenna, who Char brought to the bridge of his _Zanzibar_ to force M'Quve to heel, at which time Hazen was left without a bickering partner and also had to settle down. Through the lady's interference, Char was able to suggest a face-to-face conference between the commanders, in which they would try to hammer out their differences while they arrived at a consensus regarding their next destination.

As wonderful as this idea was, everyone involved knew that it would take a great deal of care to avoid any serious trouble. It had been difficult enough to keep the commanders in line when their only weapons were verbal; how much more difficult would it be when the combatants stood within arm's reach of one another? Amuro, for one, had never been more pleased to be a mere pilot, rather than the commander of the _White Base_.

His relief evaporated when he learned that Char had asked for the pilots to accompany their commanders, so that they would get to know their new teammates and get over their own differences. Suddenly Amuro's opinion of being a pilot lessened considerably, knowing that the former Federation pilots aboard the _White Base_ and the _Argos_ would be outnumbered three-to-one by the former Zeon pilots under M'Quve's command. As much as he would have liked to protest, however, Amuro knew exactly what Char was afraid of, and agreed that the unpleasantness had to be dispensed with as soon as possible, before the mixed group actually saw battle. The pilots needed to trust one another, or they would all end up dead.

So as Bright Noa entered the launch on the _White Base_'s hangar deck, Amuro brushed off his uniform nervously and followed him, with Hayato, Kai, and Sayla right behind him; the new pilot from the captured GM, Jenna Heidfeld, followed after a moment, keeping her distance from the rest and giving them precedence. The pilots took their seats as Fraw Bow's voice came over the intercom: "Airlock engaged. Hangar opening in five… four…"

The launch pilot closed the hatch before air began to escape from the hangar, as none of the officers on board were wearing normal suits. It was a calculated risk: Using the bulky suits would certainly be safer, in that there would be a chance of survival if any of the Zeon vessels opened fire on their launch during its journey to the _Zanzibar_, but it would also demonstrate to the Zeon officers and pilots that the _White Base_ crew did not trust them, and would therefore cause more problems during the discussions. In the end, Commander Bright had decided that the precautions were unnecessary. The only ship in range to fire on the launch with any accuracy was the _Zanzibar_, after all, and Amuro had insisted already that Char could be trusted. That said, even Amuro was slightly nervous about putting all of his trust into the Zeon captain that had chased the _White Base_ from Side 7 to Side 5, killing a good portion of the crew while he was at it.

His anxiety increased as the launch left the _White Base_ hangar and made its way toward the _Zanzibar_. The distance was not far, in a relative sense, and Amuro could already feel the pressure of emotions emanating from the former Zeon ship; the scorn, the anger, and the loathing that the _Zanzibar_ crew felt toward the newcomers. Emotions on the launch were just as oppressive, as Kai and Hayato reflected on their motives. Jenna, being new to the group, was radiating her worry so badly that Amuro wondered how any Newtype in Side 3 couldn't learn their location based on that beacon alone. The pilot was uncomfortable as it was, and joining former Zeon pilots on a former Zeon ship was making her mental state almost impossible to bear.

On the other hand, there was Sayla. Amuro was not surprised that she was the calmest person in the group, as the vessel they were approaching was commanded by her brother, and there was no doubt that the Zeon pilots they would be mingling with would be warned not to harm her. That said, though, Amuro had a feeling that the rivalries within the Zeon command structure might make Char's words less weighty among most of M'Quve's subordinates; moreover, the pilot figured that Char would have given much the same order regarding _all_ of his guests, and to make a special mention of Sayla in particular would have both drawn more attention to her than would be prudent, and would also have indicated that he would have been less angry if any of the other former Federation pilots were harmed during the conference. Perhaps, Amuro wondered, Sayla did not have as much right to be calm as she thought she did.

"You're worrying too much."

Amuro blinked. Sayla, who was sitting next to him, had closed her eyes the moment that she sat down, and hadn't shown any indication that she knew what he was thinking. But she was more aware of his emotions than he had guessed. "You think so, huh?" Amuro asked, furrowing his brow. "I can't help but wonder just how many Zeon pilots are actually going to listen to Char, if he tells them not to try anything. They're not all loyal to him, you know."

"If there's any risk of dissention, he'll know it before we do," Sayla assured the boy, opening her eyes to face him. "He's more perceptive than ever. More manipulative, too. He was never like this before."

"Hiding your identity in the midst of an enemy will do that to a person," Amuro replied softly, so that Bright and the other pilots couldn't hear him. "He's had enough practice, after all this time."

Sayla nodded sadly. "He's changed so much," she murmured. "I can hardly recognize him anymore; and yet, when I look at him, I know his intentions as though we'd been together forever. Is our connection still that strong? Or is that what being a Newtype is?"

"I don't know," Amuro answered, shaking his head. "I'm as new to this as you are, remember."

Sayla scoffed. "Perhaps," she said, turning away. "But then again, you have that Lalah Sune to help you out."

Amuro winced. "Sayla…"

The woman turned back toward the other pilot, grinning. "Guilty conscience?" Amuro swallowed nervously, but Sayla's smirk only widened. "Never mind," she said easily, shaking her head. "I don't think Casval will give her up, anyway."

Amuro's face burned as he thought about that, before he finally managed to force the notion away and return to the topic at hand. "Perceptive or not, Char can't control everything that will happen. Even if his own men will follow his orders, M'Quve's men will probably just ignore them. Char has clout, but he's only one man, and he's not the most important commander in the group. M'Quve is."

"None of the minor Zeon officers will dare to disobey Dozle's widow, and Casval has her on his side—at least for now," Sayla answered. "Apparently M'Quve can get away with irritating her, but his men haven't had the opportunity to try yet, and it's doubtful that they'd want to anyway. She's a Zabi, or at least her daughter is; they need her acknowledgement if they ever want to be legitimate in the eyes of Side 3. They won't tick her off."

Amuro nodded. Although Kai and Hayato had yet to realize it, Bright, Amuro, and Sayla were well aware that agreeing to join a rogue Zeon group meant that the _White Base_ was enlisting in a Zeon civil war, rather than a liberation movement for the benefit of the Earth Federation. Sayla was fine with that notion, as her heritage was Zeon. Bright had his reservations, but Amuro could tell that the commander would rather fight alongside M'Quve than allow Gihren to control the Earth Sphere. Amuro himself, though, couldn't be sure. M'Quve was a scheming bastard that had learned how to command from his mentor, Kycilia Zabi. Although Lady Zenna's acknowledgement would have been necessary to make his movement legitimate, there was no doubt that M'Quve would be the true ruler of Zeon—and therefore the Earth Sphere—if his movement toppled Gihren. And if that was the case, Amuro wondered how long it would be before the colonel decided to rid himself of any threats, such as his rival Char Aznable, or perhaps that former Federation ship that had given his precious Lady Kycilia so much trouble.

"Again, Amuro, you're worrying too much."

"Really, Sayla, I'm not sure you're worrying enough. Char can't protect you forever."

The woman scoffed. "He doesn't need to protect me as long as Zeon doesn't know I exist. Anyone with any interest in hurting me will be far more interested in hurting him first, and more than likely he'll destroy them before they get the chance. There's no one out there that will hurt me as long as he's there to keep their attention."

Amuro stared. "Sayla, are you sure you're not as manipulative as he is?"

The woman shook her head sadly. "Don't worry, Amuro. It was his idea, not mine."

/**/

Zeon.

Jenna had heard the word, read the word, said the word, hated the word; but this was the first time that she had actually _seen_ the word, embodied in everything that surrounded her. Zeon. Everywhere she looked, it stared at her. The floor of the _Zanzibar_'s lounge, the room in which the pilots of the various vessels congregated, was clearly made to standards different than those of the Federation's shipyards; the walls were covered in paint that had never coated a Federation ship; the furniture, bolted to the floor for those who felt the need for a solid presence at their back instead of floating in the zero-gravity environment, was foreign to Federation eyes. There was no mistaking that this was not a Federation vessel. This was _Zeon_.

But it was more than the floor, the walls, and the furniture. The most obvious proclamation of "Zeon-ness" was, without a doubt, the Zeon pilots themselves. Their accents were obvious, even to the untrained ear; though Jenna had heard strange Spacenoid accents while on board the _Rio Grande_, she had never heard this one. The uniforms were completely alien to her; she had seen propaganda films and reenactments that had featured mockups, but she had never really laid eyes on the green suits, brown gloves and boots, and black-and-gold capes of Zeon officers. The scorn of a Spacenoid being laid upon her Earth-born shoulders; this she had suffered mildly on board the _Rio Grande_, but never quite like this, when every glance showered her with a slight. It was a terrifying experience…

…and it had only been a moment. The conference hadn't even begun.

The guide that had brought them to the pilots' lounge retreated into the corridor outside the room once more, leaving the _White Base_ crew to their fate at the hands of their hosts. Jenna floated silently, not daring to move as she took in her surroundings, trying not to be overwhelmed. The others, though, were not willing to wait for her to reclaim her bearings. Sayla went forward first, her eyes narrowed as she floated toward the Zeon pilot that seemed to be wearing the biggest eagle on his cape. Amuro didn't move initially, and instead waited by the door, letting his gaze rove through the room as though he were searching for something; evidently he found it, as he suddenly pushed off from the wall and floated in the direction of a young woman whose brown uniform and tiny eagle made her out to be one of the least important Zeon pilots in the room. Kai and Hayato, like Jenna, seemed far more reluctant to begin mixing with soldiers that they had been trying to kill only weeks before, but eventually even they decided to move forward, keeping together for some semblance of comfort, but still allowing themselves to be swallowed up by the Zeon throng. Jenna, then, was left on her own.

Floating against the wall as though she were simply bored, rather than panicked, Jenna told herself that she would only have to wait until the _Argos_'s pilots arrived before she'd have company again. Unlike the _White Base_ pilots, half of whom seemed to have a familiarity with Zeon that was itself disturbing to Jenna, the woman felt sure that anyone that served under someone like Captain Hazen would be about as willing to fraternize with the enemy as she was. She steeled herself, then, and hoped that her relief would come sooner rather than later.

She never had the chance to greet them, though. Before two minutes had gone by, a smug-looking Zeon officer had spotted her, and Jenna clenched her teeth as he approached. His grin grew as her discomfort intensified, and she forced herself not to fidget as the man finally came within arm's length of her. "So your friends have gone off and left you all alone, have they?" he sneered, letting his eyes rove over her.

Jenna glared at him, hoping that her fear wasn't too obvious in her eyes. The man reacted with a scoff. "Oh, have I offended the little lady? Perhaps she thinks she doesn't need friends to keep her safe from the big, mean Zeon." He leaned forward, putting his face within an inch of hers. "You're wrong, girl."

Jenna quickly leaned back to bring her face away from the man's, and not only managed to unbalance herself into an awkward spin, but hit the back of her head against the wall for her trouble. As she fought to regain her balance, the Zeon officer laughed aloud, drawing the attention of the room to her plight. "Earth-born idiot, still fresh from gravity's well. You don't know the first thing about fighting up here; either you'll be the first one to go, or your mistake will take one of us with you." Turning away contemptuously, he added, "And if you let one of my men die, I'm taking you out myself."

"Gruder, keep yourself in check!" snapped another officer; finally righting herself, Jenna saw that it was the man Sayla had gone to speak with. "These are our guests! Did you learn this kind of hospitality on board the _Drumel_?"

"Oh, my apologies, Lieutenant," the man called Gruder grumbled with a grin, clearly unimpressed with his fellow officer's rebuke. "I was just teaching the newbie the ropes."

"Then you'd best lead by example when it comes to discipline," growled the lieutenant. "Any more trouble, and I will not hesitate to send you to the brig—and Commander Wurder be damned if he complains about it."

Gruder saluted nonchalantly. "Absolutely, sir," he said easily, floating off into the crowd while Jenna looked on after him in shock.

Her attention was quickly retaken by the lieutenant as he floated up to her, laying a hand on her shoulder; he pretended not to notice it stiffen under his grasp. "My apologies, Ensign," he said, his expression serious. "Lieutenant Gruder has lost several men over these past few months; Gihren's forces took two of them in Granada only a few days ago. I'm not excusing him, but he has his reasons." The man's eyes hardened. "He also happens to be a good judge of character. How long have you been in uniform?"

Jenna straightened, trying her hardest to hide her inexperience. "I began training six months ago, sir."

The man scoffed. "Sounds like the rookies we've been dealing with in the homeland. Have you ever seen combat?"

"Solomon, sir."

The lieutenant's brow rose. "You survived that hell, did you? Tell me how you did it."

Jenna stared into the man's eyes firmly, but as his frown deepened at her silence she had no choice but to admit, "I have no idea, sir."

"How many enemies have you shot down?"

"None, sir."

"Just like our rookies," the man said again. Taking his hand from Jenna's shoulder, he allowed himself to float back a little as he thought. "Any other action?"

"No, sir. Just a sortie; it didn't come to much."

"We captured her, sir!" came Kai's voice helpfully from the back of the room; Jenna's face paled in mortification.

The lieutenant glanced back at the throng, no doubt trying to pick Kai out from the crowd, but since he couldn't know which Federation pilot had spoken, he eventually turned back to Jenna again. "It sounds like you've got nothing to say for yourself."

The young woman gritted her teeth. "No, sir, I don't."

The lieutenant turned away again. "So, are the rest of you Feddies this inexperienced?"

Sayla bristled. "I already told you what we were capable of," she growled, but the lieutenant waved her words away.

"I want to hear it from them."

Hayato spoke up first. "We've been fighting for the last three-and-a-half months. Char chased us out of Side 7, into Luna II, down to Earth, and all the way across North America and Europe. He attacked us at Jaburo and chased us into orbit again—well, you're one of this ship's pilots, aren't you? You know what happened after that as well as anyone."

"So you know how to fight Captain Char," the lieutenant said. "What else?"

There was a silence, as though the _White Base_ pilots had thought that fighting Char Aznable—_the_ Char Aznable, of all people—would be enough credibility; truthfully, Jenna would have been impressed with half of Hayato's report. Then Kai's voice came up again. "We took out Ramba Ral and some aces in Doms, too. And we were in Operation Odessa."

"No wonder Colonel M'Quve doesn't like you," commented the Zeon lieutenant. Turning to Amuro, he said, "You've been quiet. What do you have to say for yourself?"

The boy eyed the man steadily. "Would you be happy to know that I took out Solomon's mobile armor, sir?"

The lieutenant's eyes narrowed as the room hushed at this news. "You'd best keep that to yourself, boy, if you want peace on this ship. Vice Admiral Dozle himself was piloting that armor, and we have his widow on board."

Amuro nodded. "I know."

Glancing back at Jenna, the Zeon officer asked, "And this little one… You _captured_ her, you say?"

Jenna glared as Kai spoke up again. "They sent out five suits to intercept us when we left the fleet. We got one for ourselves and left the rest behind."

The lieutenant's eyes flicked from one Federation pilot to another, eventually landing on all of them at one point or another. Finally he said, "You have quite the track record. There's no doubt that I'd trust you in battle. But I wonder about this one." He gave Jenna another sharp glance. "Gruder's an ass, but he's right. If you flew with us, you'd be nothing but a risk. You may not be fresh off the planet, but you're too close for comfort; you still don't know a damn thing about keeping yourself upright in zero-g. In battle, that will kill you." Turning back to the others, he demanded, "Why haven't you taught her anything? You trust her the way she is?"

Kai shrugged. "We'll take any help we can get. She offered, and we needed another pilot for the suit we caught her in, so we agreed."

"What good will that do you when she's blown apart in the first minute of her first sortie?" the lieutenant demanded. "At that point, not only are you back where you started, but someone's dead to show for it."

"What else would you want us to do?" Hayato growled. "Tell her no? How would that have helped us?"

"You idiot," snarled the lieutenant. "Why the hell weren't you training her from the minute you agreed to bring her in?"

There was a moment of silence. Then Sayla asked, her voice failing to mask her hesitation, "Train her?"

"What else do you do with new pilots?" The man looked as though he wanted to hit someone. "What planet do you come from? How in the name of God did you get through your military exams?"

Amuro scoffed. "What exams? We were dragged out of our homes and thrown into combat when Char blew up half of Side 7. They don't give you exams for that, unless blowing up Zakus counts."

The lieutenant stared at him, speechless. At length he said, "You mean to tell me that you're not even military?"

"According to the Federation, we are now," clarified Sayla. "They did the formal presentation of orders when we reached Jaburo. But as for the training and exams, there was none of that."

The Zeon pilots as a whole were not happy to hear this, and the murmuring began in earnest after Sayla's words. The lieutenant glared at her for a moment, before saying, "The fact remains that you survived; for that reason alone, I'll have to trust in your abilities in combat. But clearly you lack sound decision-making skills. More importantly, as far as I'm concerned, you don't have the skills necessary to bring this one"—he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Jenna—"up to speed. If she stays with you, she'll be dead after a single battle, and she might take some of us with her."

Jenna's teeth, already clenched, threatened to crack. "I have had the proper training in the operation of my suit. There is no threat of—"

"Clearly, then, Federation standards are as lax as Zeon's have gotten to be," the lieutenant interrupted, turning back to her. "Do you need me to tell you what happened to most of the rookies who came out of Zeon's academies within the last three months? They got slaughtered—at Solomon, for the most part, but there were enough skirmishes before that nightmare that there were ample chances to find a grave much sooner. Believe me, girl, you don't want to fly with the training you have under your belt."

Jenna glared still, but she knew that what he said was true. Luck, after all, had saved her so far; it would not stay with her forever. "What exactly would you have me do?" she growled.

The reaction to this question shocked all of the Federation pilots: The lieutenant suddenly grinned and said, "I want you to transfer to the _Zanzibar_ under my command."

Jenna stared. "W-wait, what?" she stuttered, not sure that she heard him correctly.

"As long as you don't know what you're doing, you're a danger to this entire group," continued the lieutenant, crossing his arms as he gazed steadily at the Federation ensign. "You need to be in a group of veterans—or rather, _trained_ veterans, in order for us to teach you exactly what it is that's kept us alive. The pilots on your Trojan Horse are good, but they learned from experience, and won't be able to teach you in any way other than by throwing you in the middle of a battle. When all they had to fight were Zakus, their equipment let them live long enough to learn. You, on the other hand, are going to be fighting Rick Doms and Gelgoogs with the Federation's mass-produced suit. It's a good suit, and it makes Zakus look like your Type-61 tanks, but it can't compare with some of the high-end equipment that Zeonic and Zimmand have put out lately unless it has a pilot that can use it effectively. Right now, you are not that pilot." The lieutenant looked into Jenna's eyes unblinkingly. "Do you want to become that pilot?"

The woman glared at her tormenter, trying to mask her conflicting emotions. She had agreed, after all, to help the _White Base_ fight Zeon; now she was being asked to abandon the _White Base_ in favor of serving aboard a Zeon ship. And yet, the lieutenant had already made it clear that there would be no agreement between the Zeon and Federation pilots for as long as she was—as far as he was concerned—untrained. "Do you promise that, if I agree to this, you will allow me to pilot my suit in combat?"

The lieutenant shrugged. "That depends on your progress. If you learn everything I teach you, you'll fly."

Jenna's glare intensified, especially as she realized that her unwillingness to fraternize with Zeon pilots for a few hours had just forced her to accept being stuck on a Zeon ship for an indefinite period of time. "Then I don't have a choice, do I, sir?"

The man nodded curtly. "I'll have Captain Char discuss this with your commander as soon as possible. Expect to be back on board the _Zanzibar_ within two days, with your mobile suit." The lieutenant was about to say more, but just then the door to the lounge opened again, admitting the Zeon guide and several more Federation pilots that Jenna had never met before. The lieutenant's attention turned toward them. "Welcome, gentlemen. Will I have to teach you how to be pilots, too?"

/**/

Behind his mask, Char closed his eyes and wondered what had possessed him to suggest this meeting. The former Federation captain, Hazen, had so far refrained from yelling at M'Quve again, but not because he hadn't wanted to: The colonel was being as offensive as ever. The captain was being more careful this time around, though, because he was surrounded by six commanders in Zeon uniforms, and only one of them was in any way willing to take his side over M'Quve's. So far, then, Hazen had kept his voice low; he was growling, but he had managed to remain civil, and Char felt that he had scored points with the Zeon commanders around him for that alone. Unfortunately, he had yet to score points with M'Quve himself—and since M'Quve was the senior officer of the group, Hazen's patience was winning him no concessions.

"Why is this such a difficult decision?" Hazen was saying at this point. "We can't go back to Side 6, since Gihren's spies have probably already reported us. The shoals at Side 2 are so close to Side 6 that any team sent to investigate our visit there would almost certainly look right next door as a matter of course. We can't hide in the shoals at Side 1 or Side 4 because they're too close to Solomon. There's no place to hide at Side 7; there's not even anything _there_ anymore, thanks to that last colony drop, and beyond that it's right next to Luna II. And if you want to hide in Zeon itself, be my guest, but I don't see that working out at all. Where else can we go but Side 5?"

"Side 5 is an option—" began Commander Bright, managing to get in a word before M'Quve could reply; the colonel didn't care, though, and spoke anyway.

"Anyone could tell you that Side 5 is right out. My group already hid there once; we can't risk it again. More importantly, there's nothing of benefit to be found there. It's not like we have the facilities to turn that rubble into something useful."

"Useful? We're looking for a hiding place, not a factory!" The captain's voice was still low, but the growl was intensifying. "What do you think you could do anywhere else?"

M'Quve looked at the captain smugly. "I've already told you. Moving our base of operations to L5 would allow us to keep an eye on Solomon's trading routes with the homeland—"

"And I've already told you that basing a pirate operation that close to a major fortress is going to get us killed a lot sooner than anything else will."

"Would you have us conjure supplies out of thin air instead?" snapped Commander Wurder, the commander of the _Musai_-class _Drumel_. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but most of our ships are so battered that their continued operation is almost a miracle. Even without that worry, our food supplies are running out, and I'm not sure that your pantries are in any better condition than ours."

Char opened his eyes. "We can easily disrupt Solomon's supply lines from the homeland by attacking its transport fleets, but I'm not sure that we can supply ourselves at the same time. Most likely, we would only be able to destroy the transports. It wouldn't be worth the lives we'd lose in battle."

M'Quve glared at the captain. "So we'll let ourselves starve instead?"

"We'd most likely starve anyway," repeated Char. "I agree completely that we need more resources, but I don't agree that attacking transports is the way to go about getting them. We need to do something more subtle, I think."

"There is a time for subtlety, and there is a time for action," M'Quve said, waving Char's suggestion away. "You can scheme all you want, but unless you have the resources to put that scheme into action, you will gain nothing from it. Wait until we have those resources before you—"

"Sir, we have the resources to do what I suggest."

M'Quve's eyes narrowed, but before he could say a word, Lady Zenna spoke up. "Tell us, Captain Char. I want to hear something new."

Char nodded toward the lady. "We have enough supplies to survive for another week at the least without taking action, and that's if we're wasteful. My plan is to use a portion of that week to monitor the civilian shuttle routes into and out of Zeon. We can corner one or more shuttles and take the crews prisoner; then we'll fill the shuttle with our men and send it on its way. By taking the identities of the passengers and crew, we will have put our best men into the heart of Zeon, where they can obtain both supplies and information on others' credit. If they return through chartering another shuttle into our sector of space, we will be able to continue this cycle without much trouble."

M'Quve glared. "Do you imagine that we have the manpower to send who-knows-how-many people away for your little plan? There's no guarantee that we'll ever see any of those men again—"

"There are plenty of guarantees, Colonel. I don't mean to send low-level mechanics, but rather our most trusted officers." Char ignored the murmurs of the other commanders. "Those most loyal to Her Excellency would not be tempted to flee her last remaining corps in favor of living under the rule of her murderer. Moreover, only our officers have the knowledge of military intricacies that will allow them to be effective spies during their time in Zeon. As much as we will feel the loss of our best men here, the knowledge they can gain for us will be invaluable."

Clearly M'Quve wanted to say something, but for once one of his commanders beat him to it. "This is a good plan, Char," began Captain Orson, the commander of the _Musai_-class _Limel_. "But the ability of our officers to obtain anything for us, either information or supplies, will depend solely on the identities of those that we find in the shuttle, correct?"

Char frowned. "That is true, to some extent. I will not pretend that this is not a gamble, of sorts. But at the same time, there is far less risk in this plan than there is in any attack against military transports. We cannot afford to lose any of our ships or mobile suits; we have too few as it is. Moreover, after a single raid, the shipping routes will no doubt change; if we cannot gain enough to tide us over until we learn the new routes, we will starve anyway."

"Captain Char," began the _White Base_'s commander, "where do former Federation officers fit into this plan? None of us have the knowledge to survive in Zeon without standing out; we'd never be able to help you."

Char nodded. "There is that," he said. "But there are other ways of splitting the effort. This plan will leave our Zeon ships understaffed, to an extent; Federation officers will have to fill the gap."

"What?" All of M'Quve's commanders and Captain Hazen immediately broke into furious rejections of Char's idea, and the man rolled his eyes behind his mask before M'Quve took his attention once again. "Captain, as much as these people are our allies, neither our people nor theirs will accept such an arrangement! We will never be able to work together!"

"Which is the reason that we're having trouble as it is," Char replied. "We can't work together now; we have to change that. As long as we aren't actually in combat, we should take the opportunity to teach our crews how to interact. Either we do this now, or we'll die when the situation requires cooperation that won't come."

"I agree," added Commander Bright, who immediately paled when the attention of the other commanders suddenly fell on him. Steeling himself, he continued, "The _White Base_ has survived on its own for a very long time. My crew has only interacted with others during resupply or, in a single case, battle—that was Solomon. Even if this were a group of Federation ships, the _White Base_ would be completely out of its depth." Turning toward Colonel M'Quve, the commander said, "I suggest that we organize training maneuvers during the time of Captain Char's operation."

M'Quve's expression hardened. "None of us have even agreed to the captain's proposal yet—" he began, but Lady Zenna interrupted him.

"Based on what you've just said, Commander, I agree with the need for maneuvers. And I think your reasoning is clear. If we organize them as we are now, tensions are high enough to bring about disaster. The only means by which we can be sure that we don't actually start shooting at each other is to exchange crewmembers; we won't shoot at our own, I hope." Zenna glanced at M'Quve. "Whether or not you agree to Captain Char's operation, the need to exchange crew is unavoidable. We'd best start sooner, rather than later."

The colonel stared at Lady Zenna, before turning his eyes to each commander in turn. Sighing, he asked the room at large, "How many of you could persuade some of your men to transfer to a Federation ship?"

"I would be more interested in how many Federation people would be willing to serve on my ship, not the other way around," Commander Wurder grumbled. "There are six Zeon ships, and only two from the Federation. Very few of my people will move; on the other hand, Captain Hazen will be practically dragging his men to the airlock to send them to us."

Hazen scowled. "If you speak from experience, Commander, your men clearly have no notion of discipline. My men follow orders."

Wurder only grinned at the comeback. "I hope so, since some of them will be following mine."

"So we agree to follow this course of action?" Char asked. As M'Quve's glare shot his way again, the captain added, "I mean the maneuvers, not the spying operation."

Captain Hazen sighed. "I don't have a choice, do I?" he growled.

Commander Wurder nodded. "I'll send some of my boys along, as long as they're replaced."

Captain Serak, of the _Zanzibar_-class _Good Hope_, shrugged. "If Lady Zenna agrees, I will abide." Lady Zenna nodded in thanks to the captain as Char turned to Captain Orson.

"I have no problem with this idea in theory, but I don't want any trouble with the newcomers."

"You won't have any problems with my bridge crew," Bright replied. "They won't be happy, but they'll understand the necessity." Turning to Char, he added, "I support this plan."

"Then I might as well jump on the bandwagon," muttered Commander Peretz of the _Musai_-class _Zumel_, who had been characteristically disinclined to speak throughout the meeting. Now he shrugged. "As long as we aren't shooting at each other, this might actually be fun."

M'Quve sighed. "Then I have nothing more to say about it, other than that we'll need to agree on how many people we want to trade, which ships they'll be stationed on, and when we'll get them back. I know for a fact that—"

Lady Zenna interrupted the colonel. "Those numbers will depend entirely on whether or not we've agreed to send some of our people into Zeon. Let's get that over with before we make any promises."

M'Quve clenched his teeth, but gave in. "As we have already agreed to one of the captain's proposals, there seems to be little reason to throw this one out, either. Will we do this, also?"

The colonel's commanders were mostly frowning at this point, and Char tried to control his frustration as Captain Serak replied, "I'm not so sure. Captain Char, you bring up a lot of good ideas, but in practice they could lead to trouble. Our people will have enough difficulty adjusting to Federation personnel amongst them, but if you remove the officers that are meant to keep them in line we'll have a mutiny."

Commander Wurder nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry to have to say this, Captain Char, but I completely agree. We can do one or the other, but I don't think we can do both at the same time."

"What would you prefer then? To go understaffed for an indefinite period of time, or to starve while your ship falls apart around you?" The two officers glared, but Char crossed his arms and said, "We need to be resupplied, and we need to operate as a cohesive whole. There is no 'either/or' option, gentlemen. Our current situation will not hold long enough for us to fix one problem at a time; we must do all, or we might as well do nothing."

This assessment only intensified the glares, but eventually Captain Orson grumbled, "There's no other way of resupplying at this point. I'll see how many officers I can spare."

Char nodded at him in thanks, and repeated the gesture when Commander Peretz said, "I don't anticipate problems with my men, so I'll do it too. But I expect that my visitors will be on their best behavior."

Hazen glared at the commander, but Bright replied, "Everyone from the _White Base_ is aware of what our cooperation means. They won't let old rivalries get in the way of their survival."

"I'm glad to hear it," Lady Zenna told the former Federation commander. Glancing at the rest of the group, she asked, "Who is not willing to go along with this operation?"

M'Quve looked around before saying with slight irritation, "It looks as though I'm the only one that has objections to this plan. The _Hummel_ will go along with it, then, but I don't dare to send out as many officers as you seem to want me to, Captain Char."

"That's fine," answered Char. "I'm sure the _Zanzibar_ can take up the slack."

"If the shuttle we capture doesn't have that many people in it, this won't need to be troublesome at all," added Captain Orson with a hopeful note to his voice.

Lady Zenna nodded. "True," she said, "but that also means that we will have fewer eyes and ears in the heart of Zeon."

/**/

The supreme commander of Zeon—and soon-to-be sovereign—should not have been frowning. He had won a war only days before; he had subdued his political rivals both within and without his own family; he had snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, and had the world to show for it. The Earth Sphere was his plaything.

And yet, as Gihren Zabi closed down the communication channel he had opened with Luna II to speak with Admiral Delaz, his expression fell once again into irritation and preoccupation. The reason he had spoken with Delaz, and with Admiral Karn before him, was simple: There was no more urgent need for the information regarding Project V. Certainly his arms manufacturers would appreciate it—at least Zeonic would, since it was doubtful that the other two were in the running for any sort of arms contract—but personally, Gihren had no more interest in the Trojan Horse than he had in the legend that lent the ship its nickname. He had wanted to find the ship for the purpose of laying bait, but that plan was foiled. His spies in Side 6 had just reported the news he had hoped not to hear: Char Aznable had found the Trojan Horse, and the two had left the colony cluster in cooperation with one another.

The report saw the end of Gihren's hunt, but it also gave him another reason to think. It alleged that Char was not acting unilaterally; he had, in fact, joined with another of Kycilia's most trusted subordinates, Colonel M'Quve, who had once been in charge of the mining operation in Odessa. Gihren had no idea what fighting strength M'Quve had with him, but he knew for a fact that someone of that man's rank would not be wandering space without a sizeable escort. Moreover, Gihren knew the man's deviousness already, having been briefed on the extent of the Odessa mining facilities by his intelligence bureau after the Federation's surrender—the figures he was told far exceeded those that M'Quve had claimed during his time in charge of the place, and Gihren grudgingly admired how well the colonel had hidden his activities from the rest of Zeon. M'Quve's position as a trusted aide to Kycilia also meant that he held a great deal of sway over any Zeon troops still loyal to her memory, in Granada or even in Side 3. Char might not have been able to bring such people to his side alone, but with M'Quve he had a far greater chance of increasing his military capabilities.

A purge was in order, but Gihren didn't want to test his popularity so soon; he knew that the populace was still sore over losing their original sovereign under suspiciously unexplained circumstances, and were wary of a ruler that would kill his own sister, for whatever reason. On a later date, then, he would drag Zeon into domestic chaos, but not now when he had yet to even sit on the throne that was rightfully his. For the moment, he had a civil war to prepare for.

"Cecilia," he began, keeping his eyes forward as he pondered his next move. "Schedule a meeting with the war ministry for tomorrow. I want to know how soon we can have anti-insurgency strategies in place with our current forces."

The secretary bowed, although her employer didn't see her. "Absolutely, Your Excellency."


	7. First Foray

_Once again, a wasted month, and no real progress to show for it. I mean for that to change this time around. Not only will there be two updates this month to make up for last month's mistake, but I really do mean to take time to properly write. I've gotten quite a few reviews, as well as several notices of readers listing this story in their alerts and favorite lists, all of which have added more urgency to this fic. Quite simply, I haven't been fulfilling my obligations lately. I will do my best to change that in the near future._

_Pointless Disclaimer: I've been told that I can have Gundam when I beat Char in a Zaku race. I'm not holding my breath._

/**/

The news that the _White Base_ was participating in crewmember exchanges with the former Zeon ships had not been taken well amongst most of the ship's crew, but to Jenna, it was a rare instance of good news. She had feared her upcoming transfer to the _Zanzibar_ as an exile from everything that was familiar, and was more than relieved to learn that she would soon have company to ease her situation. Of course, 'soon' in this case was a relative notion, as none of the commanders had a real timetable in which to send their crewmembers. This was a problem for Jenna, since her own transfer had been rushed through almost as soon as the commanders had left their conference; Lieutenant Ramcha, the officer that had insisted on training her, had accosted both Commander Bright and Captain Char on the hangar deck before the former and his pilots could board their launch, and had come away with an agreement between the two commanders that ensured Jenna's place on board the _Zanzibar_ by the end of the next day.

In other words, Jenna would be serving with the former Zeon pilots for days, if not weeks, before the first transfers began.

It was therefore with a certain amount of reluctance that the pilot floated into the open cockpit of her GM, strapping herself into the seat as the hatch closed in front of her. Jenna opened her helmet visor and sighed as she began the startup sequence. As the hatch to the hangar opened to the vacuum of space, Fraw Bow's voice broke the silence: "Course clear. RGM-79, you are clear to launch."

Jenna took the hint and maneuvered her GM into the _White Base_'s catapult. "RGM-79, Heidfeld," she announced. "Launching."

It was, she remembered all too late, the first time she had ever used a catapult; neither the _Dublin_ nor the _Rio Grande_ had been fitted with a proper hangar deck, and their mobile suit contingents had been strapped to their hulls during transport. In fact, there had been no need to use the catapult now, either, but the crew had decided to use it to save the propellant that the GM would have otherwise required to reach cruising speed. It was, then, for the sake of fuel that Jenna was thrown backward against her seat, unprepared for the physical strain of her mobile suit's sudden acceleration as it was propelled out of the hangar and into space. It took her almost five full seconds before she could finally stop her head's spinning, at which point she realized that her disorientation had caused her to deviate slightly from the path to the _Zanzibar_. She fiddled with the controls, and managed to bring the GM back onto its proper course without using a single gram of propellant, but she knew that her deviation would be noted on both the _Zanzibar_ and the _White Base_. The woman gritted her teeth as she realized that she had embarrassed herself within two minutes of strapping into her mobile suit.

'That could have gone much—'

Jenna couldn't even finish her thought before her proximity alarms were blaring at her. Jerking on the controls, the woman managed to waste all of the propellant that she had labored to save and then some, and still failed to evade the incoming Rick Dom that had surprised her from behind. Crashing into her GM, the Rick Dom wrapped its opponent into a bear hug, sending them both careening away from the _Zanzibar_. Jenna's panicked brain couldn't process the fact that the enemy suit was unarmed until its pilot used the suits' direct contact to laugh in her face and finish her earlier thought:

"That could have gone much better, don't you think?"

Jenna's face paled in mortification. "Lieutenant Gruder," she muttered. "I should have known."

/**/

It was ironic, Bright thought, that Captain Hazen had insisted so much on the need to hide in Side 5. Neither Colonel M'Quve nor any of his commanders had agreed to his demand, and yet, by agreeing to go along with Char's hijacking plan, they found themselves forced to take up residence in the devastated Side. For the sake of constructing a functioning base, however temporary, Colonel M'Quve had assigned Captain Orson's _Limel_, Captain Serak's _Good Hope_, and Captain Hazen's _Argos_ to the task of clearing debris and finding appropriate materials in the scrap heap that the colony cluster had become. Although the group had no means of actually using the material, it was hoped that Char's proposed operation would eventually change that.

So it was that the _White Base_, the _Hummel_, the _Drumel_, the _Zumel_, and of course the _Zanzibar_ were parked just out of visual range of Von Braun, the oldest and most prestigious lunar city. Through the efforts of their mobile suits, the group had observed the traffic of the city for the past two days, and found to Char's satisfaction that every shuttle that left Von Braun immediately began to orbit the moon to reach either Side 3 or the lunar cities of the moon's far side—most likely, Granada—while all incoming shuttles came from that same orbit. It was clear, then, that Von Braun had no business with anyone other than Zeon, which meant that there was no risk of stealing a shuttle that would not be going where Char wanted it to go.

So it was that M'Quve decided to bring the operation to a head on the third day of observations. The location for the ambush had been left to the mobile suit teams taking part, so long as it was not within visual range of Von Braun or any other shuttle that was not being targeted, and as long as the shuttle was within an hour's journey of the vessels' location at the point of hijack. Since Char was personally leading the pilots in the attack, there was little doubt that success was inevitable.

So when the signal came from the _Hummel_ to launch the suits, Bright did not hesitate to carry out the order. "Open the hangars! Kai, Hayato, launch!" There was no reason to send Amuro or Sayla on this mission, and the suits he did send were probably extraneous too; the _Zanzibar_ alone could have fulfilled this mission in terms of weaponry, considering that passenger shuttles were only rarely armed. Most of M'Quve's ships were only present for the sake of taking the new prisoners aboard and replacing the prisoners with their crewmembers. Still, Bright had chosen to take part in the operation in order to show his support for Char's plan. Despite the fact that the captain had caused most of the _White Base_'s troubles during the past months, Bright had a deep feeling that, if he had to choose a side in the rivalry between the Zeon commanders, a vote for Char would serve him much better than a vote for M'Quve.

As the Guncannons sped off of their catapults, the commander glanced through the bridge windows on his right, where the _Zumel_'s contingent of Rick Doms accelerated by, and shook his head. "Does anyone else think it's strange to see Zeon suits flying by us in the same direction that ours are going?" he asked no one in particular. No one in particular answered, too, but Bright didn't need a response. The tense atmosphere in the bridge was enough to tell him that the crew was still trying to adjust to their situation as much as he was.

It was a comforting feeling, knowing that he was not alone in his disorientation.

/**/

Char brought his Gelgoog into the lead, scouting ahead as the rest of the mobile suits—nine in all, including himself—fanned out behind him, guarding the _Komusai_ capsule that would be the group's decoy. The group did not anticipate trouble, and were certainly not prepared for any, but Char wanted to make as deep an impression as possible on whatever shuttle he targeted. Nine mobile suits would have been enough to attack a battleship, had their pilots been properly trained to act as a unit; no shuttle would resist upon seeing this amount of firepower, the man was sure.

It was therefore with a great degree of confidence that Char continued on, flanked by the two Rick Doms from the _Drumel_. Only minutes ahead of him was the orbit by which Von Braun's traffic made its way to or from the far side of the moon, and as Char approached, he began to maneuver the Gelgoog's limbs to slow his pace, as well as turn away from his perpendicular approach. He wanted to be well out of range of Von Braun by the time he reached the orbital traffic, and to that end he led his team along a parallel path to that traffic until he judged himself to be far enough from the city to keep any Minovsky-clouded cry for help from reaching unnecessary ears. Then, finally, Char motioned for the rest of the team to stop their advance and wait, while the _Komusai_ was allowed to turn toward the necessary orbit and pass them by.

Char sighed as he watched the capsule disappear into the backdrop of the moon. "I probably should have had hidden a mobile suit in there," he said to himself in hindsight. "Then again, who knows how trigger-happy some of these pilots are? M'Quve is as short on experienced pilots as A Baoa Qu, after all."

One of the Rick Doms from the _Drumel_ floated over to the captain's Gelgoog and rested its hand on the red suit's shoulder. "Captain," the pilot began, "I know that we've discussed this already, but I don't know if we ever determined what to do if there are witnesses to this operation."

"You mean if there are other shuttles nearby," Char said. "We can't have witnesses, but at the same time, destroying a single shuttle will bring suspicion on every other shuttle that goes through the same sector, including the one we want to plant our spies on. If there are witnesses, we'll have to capture both shuttles."

"We don't have enough men to replace two shuttles' worth of passengers, sir."

"True," answered Char, "but with two shuttles, we can choose which one contains more useful identities for our people to use, and we can move the shuttle we choose not to use to a more remote location before we destroy it, so that its wreckage is not discovered in the path that the more important shuttle was using."

The pilot seemed to mull this over. "So if we encounter any witnesses, capture them. Will we save the crews, sir?"

Char shrugged. "That depends on Colonel M'Quve, really. If he doesn't want the extra mouths to feed, we might end up blowing up the shuttle with the passengers still inside. It's possible that the first crew won't live, either, but I suggested this mission with imprisoning the crew in mind, and any decision to kill people out of hand will likely lead to conflict with our former Federation friends. That Captain Hazen is itching to trade shots with the colonel, I'm sure."

"Yes, sir—I see the signal!"

Char smiled as the _Komusai_'s distress flare burst in the distance. "Well, they've found a target, and now the bait is set. Pass on the word to advance using the AMBAC alone; we don't need anyone to see the lights from our booster nozzles until they absolutely have to."

"Yes, sir."

/**/

The shuttle _Envy_ was only three hours away from docking at Von Braun when a Zeon distress flare appeared off the port bow, drawing a startled reaction from the shuttle's skipper and his copilot. The Zeon lieutenant that sat behind them leaned forward as he gazed at the flare. "Are we within communications range of Von Braun?" he asked.

The skipper shook his head. "The Minovsky field is too dense. Perhaps if we were another hour closer, we might get a signal through, but with the warships docking in Von Braun so often, it will be impossible to contact them."

The lieutenant frowned. "Well, then, we'll have to recover them ourselves. I have to hope for all of our sakes that the military isn't doing anything secret here."

The copilot swallowed anxiously. "There's no other reason for them to be here without being on the schedule, though, is there?"

"Probably not," admitted the officer, his frown deepening. "Still, it would be bad form to just leave them behind. Alter course; if it's something small, we'll pick it up, and if not, we'll at least have enough information to tell the people who can actually do something about it."

"You got it, sir," replied the skipper, making the necessary course corrections while the lieutenant reminded himself for the hundred and eighth time why he had not wanted to work with civilians. Although high command had wanted military supervisors on board every shuttle arriving at or leaving from sensitive locations—especially the lunar cities, the closest 'foreign' territories to Zeon, situated on a satellite that the Principality had never fully controlled—the supervisors chosen for the job were having a hard time adjusting to the laid-back atmosphere. For Lieutenant Othran, his irritation had been building since the moment he had first stepped on board the _Envy_ the week before; now, three flights later, he was beginning to get over it, but he still longed for a more formal posting in his future.

For that reason alone, he found himself anticipating their arrival at the site of the stranded military craft. It was small, that was certain; considering the distance of the flare, he would have been able to see it—even as a dot—if it were anything comparable to a _Musai_. The fact that he could not was a blessing: It meant that the craft would not be carrying many people, allowing the _Envy_ to take them in. The detour itself wasn't going to make the shuttle any more than seven minutes late, but connecting to the stranded vessel and taking on its crew and cargo, if there was any, would take a great deal more time. Real problems would arise if the stranded vessel was itself important, as there was little chance that the _Envy_ could tow anything more than half its weight to port. Othran sighed as he considered the possibility, before discarding the thought. His worrying would not change the situation that awaited him, so it would be better for him simply to let the situation come to him before he gave it much more thought.

Perhaps, he mused idly, that was not the best theory for a military man who had been trained to consider all possibilities, but he knew also that the _Envy_ could only do so much, and thinking about the possibilities not covered by those capabilities was an exercise in futility.

Finally, as the shuttle approached the dying flare, the outline of the stricken craft could be seen through the cockpit windows. The lieutenant smiled in relief. 'It's a _Komusai_,' he thought to himself. 'Nothing important about it at all. We won't have to tow it.'

Aloud he said, "Orient the shuttle to match the _Komusai_'s alignment. Put our hatch as near to theirs as possible."

"I'm on it, sir," the skipper replied, furrowing his brow in concentration as he activated the shuttle's verniers to match the _Komusai_'s orientation. "Almost there…"

Then, suddenly, the _Komusai_ launched another flare and, incredibly, boosted away as though there was nothing wrong with it at all. The crew of the _Envy_ stared at the retreating lights of the capsule's boosters as the second flare bathed their shuttle with light; then, suddenly, the light was cut off.

Lieutenant Othran, who had stood up from his seat to stare at the retreating _Komusai_, fell back with a cry as the shadow of a mobile suit suddenly fell on the _Envy_'s cockpit. The mono-eye camera marked it as a Zeon design, but it was a moment before Othran's eyes adjusted enough to make out the outline of the Rick Dom that floated in front of him, aiming its bazooka directly into the cockpit. The skipper swore violently as he fired his verniers again, using the rest of their propellant to avoid the bazooka's barrel. However, it quickly became apparent that the skipper's efforts were wasted, as another mobile suit immediately appeared in front of them, wielding a beam rifle that was infinitely more deadly than the weapon the shuttle had just avoided.

The lieutenant voided his bladder.

Luckily for Othran, the other two men were distracted from his embarrassment by a sudden jerk of the shuttle that indicated that something of reasonable mass had made contact with it. The voice emanating from the shuttle's communications systems confirmed contact with a mobile suit: "Do not attempt to escape. I am Captain Char Aznable of Lady Kycilia Zabi's 300th Independent Corps. My men and I are taking control of this vessel. I repeat: Do not attempt to escape."

Lieutenant Othran's fear suddenly coupled with amazement. "_The_ Char Aznable?" he asked aloud, although he didn't expect a response. "What is he doing?"

"I have no idea, but his _Komusai_ is coming back," answered the copilot. "And it looks like the people in it mean business."

Othran glanced out the starboard window at the returning capsule, and paled as he saw the five men in normal suits that were riding the _Komusai_'s exterior. All of them were heavily armed, and were clearly ready to board the _Envy_. Othran was not the only military personnel on board the shuttle, but neither he nor his two subordinates carried anything more threatening than pistols; none of them were prepared to fight five men armed with submachine guns. "Tell them that we'll do as they say," he hastily told the other two men. "Hurry!"

"I was getting there," growled the skipper, who was quite a bit calmer than his hot-shot supervisor; having been in the shipping business for a while, he was no stranger to hostile takeovers. Pressing a few buttons, the man said, "Captain Char Aznable, this is the shuttle _Envy_. Call your boys off; we're not going anywhere."

The response was a chuckle. "I'm glad to hear it, but I'm afraid you're going to have to let our men on board anyway. We just want to make sure that there are no surprises when we open the hatch after we arrive."

Lieutenant Othran took his eyes off of the approaching _Komusai_ upon hearing this. "Arrive where?" he demanded. The skipper repeated his question.

Char's response was less than satisfactory. "You'll find out soon enough. Perhaps if you open your hatch before my men are forced to blow it open, they might be in enough of a good mood to tell you before I have to."

The skipper took the hint and opened the outer airlock. Within a few moments, the _Komusai_ retreated once again, and its complement of boarders entered the shuttle.

/**/

Normal suited Zeon officers, handpicked from the crews of M'Quve's six ships, lined the walls of the _Zanzibar_'s hangar as the hatch opened to admit the approaching shuttle. It was no larger than the Elmeth, perhaps a bit smaller even, and there was no apparent difficulty in finding a berth large enough to accommodate it. As the shuttle set down, Captain Char's Gelgoog followed it into the hangar, and the hatch began to close behind the suit. Meanwhile, the airlock on the shuttle began to cycle, and the officers leveled their weapons as it opened to reveal a similarly-armed Zeon soldier with a grin on his face. "Mission success, sirs!"

"Not yet, it's not," came the voice of Char Aznable as he opened the hatch to his mobile suit. "The mission's not over until our officers come back from Von Braun with everything that we need to survive. Get the passengers offloaded as soon as possible; we have absolutely no time to waste here."

"Yes, sir!" the officers chorused as they came forward, while the soldier in the airlock motioned behind him to his comrades still inside the shuttle. Soon thereafter, the soldier stepped out of the hatch to make way for the first of the shuttle's occupants, a Zeon officer whose trousers were evidence of his lack of experience. Soon following were two other Zeon soldiers, and after that came the civilian crew: two pilots, three mechanics, and an attendant to the passengers. This last suffered some leers from the assembled officers, until frightened whimpering from the hatch returned their attention to the shuttle as the first of the passengers came forward.

It was quickly done, for the most part. As civilian shuttle services had yet to fully recover from the effects of the war, there were relatively few passengers on board, almost all of them either wealthy or important to Zeon in some way or another; those that weren't either of those were family or friends of those that were. The officers quickly photographed and interviewed each passenger, asking for names and occupations. Wallets were taken, identities and credit cards confiscated. The officers not involved looked on, unconcerned until an officer came out of the crowd and said to them, "You'd better get out of those normal suits and into civilian clothes. This thing needs to be back on its way to Von Braun within ten minutes."

There was no need to reply; most of the officers were already dressed in their civilian attire underneath their suits, and it was a simple matter of taking off the suits and allowing a nearby ensign to collect them while they came forward for their new identities. A lieutenant commander stood at the shuttle's hatch, sorting through identity cards and wallets; soon he called out, "Male, one meter, three decameters, brown hair, blue eyes." He held out the relevant articles as an officer that somewhat fit that description came forward to claim it. "His name is Martin Cord; Martin Cord, remember that."

"Yes, sir," said the officer as he placed the identification card in the wallet and stepped into the shuttle. The lieutenant commander rifled through the articles in front of him again, called out the information on the next card, and repeated the process again and again until the articles were gone from his hands.

Char, who was looking on from above, was displeased to note that his men were forced to ask for alternate volunteers three times during the sorting in order to better match identifications to physical characteristics. Although Captain Orson had already mentioned it, this was the first time that Char was forced to admit to himself that the plan had a serious flaw; but there was no other way in which the group could obtain materials. It was either this operation, or a full-scale attack against Solomon's shipping with the homeland—and there was no doubt that Gihren would not put up with the latter situation for long.


	8. Cooperation

_With last month wasted, this month receives two updates. Sadly, this should have been done last week, but I delayed in the hopes of getting in some more writing beforehand. Unfortunately, I failed to get more than a paragraph done in that amount of time._

_Pointless Disclaimer: I did not beat Char in that Zaku race. Gundam is not mine._

/**/

Sayla looked on from the bridge of the _White Base_ as the shuttle was launched from the hangar of the _Zanzibar_, wondering if the operation would be as successful as her brother was clearly hoping. Casval had bet his credibility on the next few weeks, and as much as Lady Zenna's support could help him, it was clear that there was a limit at which M'Quve would happily ignore her as well as the captain that enjoyed her favor. In fact, Casval was as much in danger of losing that favor as he was in losing credibility amongst the ship commanders, considering that Zenna's support came to him only because she would not give it to M'Quve by any means; if she found Casval as useless to her as the colonel seemed to be, she might simply choose another commander to favor, or she could refuse to acknowledge any of them or contest Gihren's legitimacy in Zeon at all. In either case, Casval would be unable to sway M'Quve's decisions at all, and the group would fall under the complete control of the colonel.

To say that Sayla did not trust the colonel was an understatement of the highest degree. M'Quve's actions as he retreated from the Odessa mining facilities had made her question anyone that would willingly deal with him, but her real concerns were more family-oriented. The colonel had been one of Kycilia Zabi's staunchest supporters, placing him in direct opposition to Casval's efforts to restore the Deikun line. M'Quve also outranked every other officer in the group, and would not allow anyone else, especially the man he considered an insignificant upstart, to take command from him for any reason. As long as M'Quve was in the way, Casval had no means to lead a Deikun revival in Zeon; therefore, the less authority the colonel had, the better.

Of course, using the influence of a _Zabi_ to keep his authority on par with that of the colonel was equally untenable, as Lady Zenna would be as likely to support Casval's rule in Zum City as M'Quve would. The lady was no friend to M'Quve, but at least he was willing to make her daughter his puppet, which was a good deal closer to the seat of power than Casval would place her. Until he was ready to stand alone, the captain would have to keep his identity well-hidden; and yet, as long as he did so, Lady Zenna would remain both his only crutch and his unwitting adversary.

Sayla sighed and turned away from the bridge window, only to see Bright watching her. "Sir?"

The commander's brows were furrowed in thought, and he did not immediately reply. After a moment, though, he turned to Mirai at the helm and said, "Take command for a moment, Mirai. I'll return in a moment." Turning back to Sayla he said, "Come with me, will you?"

Mirai turned in confusion at the orders, but Sayla nodded and floated after the commander as he made his way to the lift. As the door closed and the lift began to drop, Bright turned to the woman and said, "Of the twenty that I'm sending to the Zeon ships, I'm sending seven to the _Zanzibar_. Would you like to be one of them?"

Sayla's eyes widened. "You'd do that, sir?"

Bright nodded. "Your brother is sending his most trusted men to ensure that this mission is a success. I think it only fair that I send him some of mine in return, and it would be unnecessary for me to keep you here when you can serve in the Corebooster just as well on Char's ship. Even to me, it's obvious that you'd rather be there than here, so there's no reason to keep you caged here."

Sayla winced. "It's… It's not quite like that, sir," she began, but Bright shook his head.

"I know what you mean. I remember offering you the option of leaving the ship before; you refused then, because the _White Base_ was your home. I know that your feelings have nothing to do with your opinion about us, or about the ship." Bright smiled. "It's good to keep your family close, Sayla. I won't begrudge you that."

The woman smiled brightly. "Thank you, sir."

The lift doors opened, and Sayla realized where Bright was leading her. Stepping out of the lift and floating down the corridor toward the hangar, she asked, "Are we leaving so soon?"

Bright nodded. "I don't dare to wait for Hazen to send his people first, or they'll never be sent at all. Beyond that, the Zeon commanders will want to be as fully staffed as possible during our return to L1, in case we run into anything unforeseen. By that same token, I hate to lose so many people, but the only ship in this group more heavily armored than we are is the _Zanzibar_, so we won't be as vulnerable as the _Musai_s will be. The sooner the Zeon officers are replaced, the happier their commanders will be."

"And the more willing they'll be to listen to you," noted Sayla, raising her brow.

Bright chuckled mirthlessly. "Yes, there's that, too. Speaking of ulterior motives…" The commander let go of his handgrip and reached for the wall to slow himself, and Sayla followed suit if only to keep from running into him. "As long as we're part of this group, we're no longer Federation soldiers," he began. "We might as well be Zeon from this point on; rebels, yes, but Zeon nonetheless. I think you know this."

Sayla nodded. "I've known from the beginning that I wasn't going back to the Federation after this."

Bright finally stopped his forward momentum completely and turned to face his petty officer. "In that case, we have to choose where in Zeon we want to fall. I know that I can't choose for everyone, but personally, I don't want to fall on the side of Colonel M'Quve, the man who violated the Antarctic Treaty. You told me that your brother's been planning something for as long as he's been a Zeon officer, and if I've read our allies right, M'Quve and his men are in the way of that plan. So I want to ask a favor from you."

Sayla gazed at her commander warily. "What is it?" she asked.

"I need to know what Char's plan entails," Bright replied, his voice conveying his seriousness. "I want to know what I'm getting into if I side with him completely. I don't mean to insult you or your family, but I need to know that I'm not trading one monster for another."

Sayla glared at Bright. "You want me to spy on my brother, you mean," she growled.

Bright sighed. "You could call it that, I suppose, although I wasn't thinking of anything so drastic. I just want you to learn what the plan is, even if you have to ask him outright." The commander turned back toward the hangar and pushed off from the wall, floating forward again. "I don't think it's unnatural that I don't completely trust him, Sayla. He's tried to kill us more times than I care to remember."

"You mean you don't trust him because he's Zeon," Sayla replied, moving forward. "Considering the war, it's understandable. What isn't understandable is the fact that you still trust _me_." Bright turned his head over his shoulder as the woman added, "Even if I tell you I'll do this, what makes you think that I'll tell you the truth? For all you know, I'll tell him how to capture this ship out from under you, especially now that it's undermanned."

Bright shook his head as he turned his gaze ahead once again. "If you were going to do that, you wouldn't have planted the idea in my head first," he said. "More importantly, I trust you because I know that you wouldn't put your friends in harm's way. Encouraging Char to take over this ship would lead to a lot of deaths, and most of them would be of people you know."

Sayla sighed, defeated. "I know that," she said quietly. Then her voice took on an edge. "That still doesn't mean that I'll spy for you, you know."

"I don't want a spy, Sayla. I want someone to tell me if I'm doing the right thing."

At this, the woman couldn't help but laugh, which nearly killed her momentum in the zero-gravity. Bright turned his head again in surprise, but Sayla quickly composed herself and replied, "You're talking about politics, Commander. There's no such thing as 'the right thing.' The best you can do is to choose the lesser evil and hope that it doesn't kill you."

The commander gritted his teeth. "I'm not sure I care for that advice, but I'll take it nonetheless."

"Then you already know your path, don't you?"

"I suppose I do," answered Bright as he turned his eyes forward again. "As long as Char doesn't start a massacre, I'll have a lot fewer qualms about serving under him than under M'Quve."

Sayla remained quiet for a moment. Then she said, "As a friend, sir, I don't have a problem telling you that there is a third option."

"Gihren?" Bright scoffed, shaking his head.

"No," replied Sayla. "Zenna and Mineva. As far as the Zabi family is concerned, Mineva is the next in line after Gihren. M'Quve doesn't care about her or her mother as much as he cares about the memory of Kycilia, but he'll use them to his advantage until he can dispose of them. Casval is in a similar situation, since he can't reveal himself as a Deikun without coming into conflict with the Zabi family as a whole. Right now they're puppets, but if you are that unwilling to serve Casval, the option is there."

Bright turned toward Sayla in surprise. "Is there any chance of success?"

"That depends on Zenna's ability to outwit both M'Quve and Casval at the same time. I have a feeling that either of them will dispose of her and Mineva long before Mineva is old enough to take part in intrigue, unless Zenna gets rid of them first." Sayla shrugged. "Of course, the real challenge in your case will be getting into contact with her. She's on Casval's ship, after all."

The commander fell silent. Then he said, "To really side with Zenna, I would have to reveal the threats to her daughter's future. That would include your brother; and the moment that she learned that Char is really Casval Deikun, she'd reject him. M'Quve would win." Bright scowled as the two turned and entered the hangar. "Is there no way to keep myself on the right track?"

Sayla shook her head. "I already told you what I think about 'right' and 'wrong' in politics." More quietly she said, "If you're worried about choosing a side, you still have plenty of time to watch the situation develop. As you already said, Casval only has support from Zenna; if he acts too hastily, he'll lose everything."

The commander grasped the railing overlooking the mobile suits in the hangar, halting his momentum as he looked out at the hangar floor. "So I support the status quo for as long as I'm indecisive?" he asked, although this was mainly to himself. "How can I do that, when the one thing I _do_ know is that I don't want our current commander to be in command?"

"It's your choice, Bright. I can't help you." Sayla halted beside the commander and, like him, gazed out at the floor, where several mechanics were discussing the prospects of the captured shuttle's new occupants. After a moment, she said, "I'll ask Casval what he plans to do. I'll be honest, sir: Sometimes I don't trust him either. But I'll take you at your word that you don't want a spy, because I won't be one for you."

"Fair enough," Bright replied, still not looking up from the group below. Then, after a long minute, he turned his eyes back to his companion. "You'd better get into your pilot suit. You'll be taking your machine out too, remember. We'll send supplies for the Corebooster and the Gundam at Char's request, so be sure to tell him when there are problems."

"Yes, si—Wait, the Gundam?"

Bright nodded, glancing at the mobile suit in question. "Char asked for Amuro specifically. Again, there's no reason to refuse, considering that our fighting strength will be the same no matter where the suits launch from. Still, I'm not looking forward to exercises that pit the _White Base_ against Amuro."

Sayla furrowed her brow in irritation. "He'll spend half of his time talking to that Lalah woman, and the other half talking _about_ her." Then, glancing back at the commander's questioning expression, she said hastily, "Don't mind me, sir. I'm a bit distracted." Turning from the hangar, she said, "I'll head to the prep room to change. I… I'll see you soon, I'm sure, sir."

Bright smiled. "Count on it, Petty Officer."

/**/

Mirai frowned as she sat in the commander's seat on the bridge. "No wonder he's always griping," she said to herself as she leaned back. "This seat is terrible!"

Fraw Bow snickered from the communications console. "I wonder if the Zeon ships have anything better. Maybe M'Quve will want to trade."

"If we trade with anyone, it certainly won't be him," Mirai replied, shaking her head. "After what he tried to do to us at Side 6? Absolutely not. I'm only willing to deal with him as much as we do because he's technically in charge, but there are so many fractures in this little group that I wonder if anyone's really in charge at all."

Fraw shrugged. "As long as there's a question of leadership, it means we have a voice in the decision-making process. As soon as the Zeon commanders solidify, we'll be in trouble. I think that's why Bright's so worried."

Mirai shook her head. "There's more to it than that. To stand a chance against Zeon, we _have_ to have strong leadership from someone, and in the end Bright would rather fight against Zeon—or Gihren's Zeon, anyway—than against the commanders that are supposedly on his side. If we allow the power struggle to continue, Gihren will be able to destroy us all." The helmswoman sighed. "What he's worried about most is what happens when the power struggle begins in earnest. If we're on the wrong side, we'll be lucky if the winner lets us off with our lives, and very lucky if we're still kept in his crew, rather than being stuffed into the brig somewhere."

Fraw stared at the older woman. "That's a frightening thought," she muttered.

Mirai nodded. "I know."

Just then, the lift opened to reveal Commander Bright, who caught on to the mood in the bridge very quickly. "What's the matter?" he asked, glancing from Mirai's frown to Fraw's.

"We're just discussing the situation, sir," Fraw replied, shrugging. "There are aspects of it that we're not thrilled to notice."

Bright nodded as Mirai relinquished the commander's seat and floated to the helm once more. "I know exactly what you mean," he said. "At the moment, though, there's very little we can do about it." The commander reclaimed his seat, failing to see Mirai rolling her eyes at his inability to notice the discomfort. Reaching for the PA system, Bright switched to ship-wide and began to speak. "Hangar crew, ready a launch. Everyone else, listen closely! This is the list of crew that will be transferred to the former Zeon vessels in our fleet. If your name is called, report to the hangar with your possessions, unless you are to serve on either the _Limel_ or the _Good Hope_; as you should be aware, they're not with us at the moment. If you are a pilot, you're taking your machine as well, so don't bother going to the launch." Bright briefly imagined what Kai's reaction to that last announcement must have been; no doubt the pilots had thought themselves exempt, due to their tight bond. "First, those going to the _Zanzibar_: Ensign Amuro Ray; Petty Officer Sayla Mass; Ensign…"

/**/

Amuro took a bite of his meal, heard his name, and nearly spit it back out again. "What was that?" he cried as soon as he could speak, jumping up from his seat and floating in the mess hall. Turning to a mechanic sitting behind him at the next table over, he asked, "What did he say?"

The man turned back with a grin. "He said you're going to the _Zanzibar_, Ensign. I'm sorry for you."

Amuro stared. "The _Zanzibar_?" he repeated stupidly. "That's Char's ship! What is Bright thinking?"

The mechanic shrugged. "You probably shouldn't keep him waiting. The fact that he decided to start the transfers so soon means that he's rushing for some reason or—Damn it, he called me too!"

Amuro barely heard that last part, having already pushed himself toward the door of the mess hall. Entering the corridor, he quickly grabbed a handgrip and floated toward the lift, wracking his mind for any reason behind the transfer.

He could think of several. Bright could have been trying to tell Char that he was trustworthy by giving him the _White Base_'s ace. Conversely, he could be sending Amuro in order to keep an eye on Char; Bright knew that he could trust Amuro to report anything he knew that might put the _White Base_ in danger. Possibly he was doing it as an affront to M'Quve, who would be irritated when he learned that the Gundam had been sent to Char rather than to him. But of all those reasons, Amuro wasn't sure if he found one he agreed with. None of them really justified the transfer of the _White Base_'s most important and dangerous mobile suit to a ship that might still be an enemy.

Amuro wondered about these things as he entered, rode, and then exited the lift to reach the level on which both the hangar and the pilot prep room were. He was tempted to return to his quarters for a minute to look for anything he might need, but decided against it; he really had nothing to take that was not easily replaceable or necessary, considering that most of his belongings had been left behind on Side 7 after Char's attack in September. Instead of his quarters, then, Amuro continued onward to the pilot prep room, and entered to find Sayla just coming out. "Sayla?"

The other pilot smiled. "Hey, Amuro," she said. "I heard you were coming too."

"What do you mean, 'too'?" Amuro asked. "Were you transferred, too?"

Sayla chuckled. "You really didn't listen after he called your name, did you?" she asked. "I was the very next one on the list, but since he'd already asked whether or not I wanted to go, I was already in here." She crossed her arms and floated back into the room to let Amuro in. "We're both assigned to the _Zanzibar_, so I guess we can count that as luck. We're at least dealing with someone that we have some experience with."

Amuro scoffed, closing the door behind him before floating to his locker. "Of course you have experience with him, but I've only met the man twice. All the rest of my 'experience' was shooting at him." He shook his head as he pulled his pilot suit out of his locker and unzipped it. "The only one I really know from Zeon is Lalah."

"That's something I wanted to talk to you about before we get over there."

Amuro froze, immediately cursing himself for once again bringing up Lalah in front of Sayla. Glancing up at her, the boy became even more nervous when he saw her narrowed eyes. "I know that you can't help but be close; that's what Newtypes are, after all. I can't ask you to stop being friends, obviously, and up until now there hasn't been any reason to think that you'd be anything else. But now that we're going to be living on the same ship with her, I want to make something clear, Amuro Ray." The woman floated forward, bringing her face within inches of the victim of her glare. "Eyes _only_, Amuro. Not only would you make me angry if you tried anything more, but you'd also make _Casval_ angry—and if you get in a fight with your commanding officer, don't expect me to clean you up when he beats you, because I'd be more likely to beat you up some more instead." Amuro's eyes were as wide as saucers as he nodded dumbly. Sayla's glare softened slightly with his quick compliance. "Just stick to that promise, and you won't have anything to worry about," she said with a smile that, if anything, made her all the more frightening. Leaning forward, she kissed Amuro on the cheek, then floated by. "Hurry up, or they'll launch without us."

Amuro swallowed nervously. "Uh… Yeah, sure. I'll… I'll be right out, sure." Sayla reached the door and glanced back, still smiling, before she opened it and grabbed a handgrip. Amuro waited until she closed the door again before turning back to his pilot suit, trying to control his breathing and his shaking hands as he clumsily put the suit on. "Damn it, Sayla. What do you want me to do?"

/**/

Jenna floated toward the hatch of her GM as quickly as she could accurately kick off from the floor of the _Zanzibar_'s hangar, but she was still much slower to reach the cockpit of her suit than the Zeon pilots around her. The radio was already filled with the calls of the other members of the ship's mobile suit team, and Jenna's voice followed suit as she closed the hatch, "Heidfeld, ready!"

"Too slow, Heidfeld," Lieutenant Ramcha growled as the first Rick Dom boosted off into space. "The white suit is already halfway here. If he were attacking us, we'd be dead!"

"Sorry, sir," Jenna said, checking her gauges as she gripped the controls. As the launch indicators lit up, the ensign took her place at the edge of the hangar hatch and put her engines at full power. "GM, launching!"

It was much easier to find her teammates in the distance without the disorientation of a catapult launch, and Jenna had been very thankful to learn that no Zeon vessels had been equipped with such devices except for those used to shunt cargo out of the hangar more easily; Captain Char had apparently once ordered a _Musai_ to use the cargo catapult to send him a Zaku while he was returning from a mission in a normal suit, but other than special circumstances of that nature, Zeon pilots saw nothing wrong with walking out of their hangars under their own power. The ensign had been more than happy to follow their example, especially when she had to quickly find and catch up to her team and could not afford to be distracted.

As it was, the lieutenant and the other Rick Dom in his team had already moved a good deal ahead to greet the incoming machines escorting the launch, and Jenna boosted forward to catch up with them before the Gundam could reach them. Behind the Gundam, the glow of another booster could be seen, and as Jenna turned to follow her superior she was able to make out the shape of the Corebooster coming forward to join the group. "Her too?" she asked herself as she glanced from the monitors to the computer terminal, where the relative speed of the fighter was displayed. "She's in a hurry, too."

As the group made the return to the _Zanzibar_, Jenna glanced at the Gundam and wondered why the commander felt the need to give the launch such a powerful escort. That one machine had made the 13th Autonomous Mobile Squadron the Federation's most successful squadron in the entire war. There was hardly a reason to give the launch that much protection, considering that there was no enemy to be found. Indeed, to send out any escort seemed unnecessary; to send out the Gundam, with the Corebooster as backup, made Jenna wonder if Commander Bright had decided to use the crew transfer as a ploy to sink the _Zanzibar_. And if that were the case… Jenna desperately told herself that it wasn't, and thrust the thought from her mind.

Turning her eyes back to the ship, the pilot narrowed her eyes and slowed her suit's approach. Her landings were by no means as disastrous as her launches, so she was not worried about the prospect of damaging her suit and possibly the ship during the attempt, but she chose to be safe rather than sorry; indeed, her last landing attempt prompted Lieutenant Ramcha to ask if she'd somehow managed to damage her accelerator during unarmed maneuvers. In this case, also, there was only one exit to the hangar, which was quickly taken up by the incoming mobile suits. The launch entered first, followed by Lieutenant Ramcha and his wingman. Jenna slowed down some more as she neared the hangar, eyeing the hatch—and was thrown back into her seat as the Gundam ran into the back of her GM. "What the hell?"

Apparently the Gundam's pilot thought the same thing. Grabbing the GM's arm to steady his suit at the cost of Jenna's remaining stability, Amuro demanded, "What are you doing? You're landing, right?"

"Of course I'm landing!" snarled Jenna, glaring at the viewscreen as she activated visual contact. "I want to know what _you're_ doing! Get back to your ship!"

"This _is_ my ship," growled Amuro. Jenna's eyes widened as he added, "Are you going to land now, or will I?"

The GM's pilot clenched her teeth. "Take the lead," she snapped. "I'll be awhile."

Amuro nodded curtly and cut the connection, and Jenna boosted away from the hatch to give him a clear run into the soon-to-be-filled hangar. As the Gundam made a perfect landing, Jenna growled to herself, "He'd better not take my spot. There's only so much room in there." Moving back to get a straight line into the hangar, the woman quickly saw another obstacle and slammed her fist against the side monitor. "What the hell is this? Come on, there's not enough room in there for you too, Sayla!"

She didn't bother to radio her feelings, knowing that she didn't have a say in the matter, but apparently her run-in with Amuro had already been reported to Lieutenant Ramcha. "Is there a problem with our new teammates, Ensign Heidfeld?" he radioed.

The pilot glumly activated her radio. "No, sir," she muttered. "Everything is perfectly fine."

/**/

Lalah sighed as she relinquished control of the Elmeth's manual controls and unstrapped herself. As soon as the launch of the Gundam had been confirmed, the _Zanzibar_ had gone into a frenzy of activity, so much so that the launch of the Corebooster had nearly gone unnoticed. Char had allowed his "secondary" pilots—in other words, the three pilots that were not her—to launch first, to gauge the intentions of the approaching suits before putting himself and his most precious subordinate into danger. The Gundam proved to be friendly, however, and the Elmeth's launch was cancelled.

Exiting the Elmeth's cockpit, Lalah floated up to the hangar's observation deck and turned toward the nearest hatch as it admitted Lieutenant Ramcha's Rick Dom back to the hangar. Coolant was quickly applied as the machine stepped into its berth, making way for Ensign Bard's suit as it also landed. Lalah knew there wasn't much more to wait for; the former Federation pilot, Heidfeld, had proven to be the slowest of the lot in landing, and often took more than two minutes longer to set down in the hangar. Therefore, the ensign turned away, but suddenly snapped her gaze back to the hatch when she felt a spike of anger from a presence she knew very well indeed.

Soon thereafter, the Gundam entered the hangar, to the surprise of almost everyone that saw it. The crew reacted quickly as it stepped into the only spare dock, swarming the machine to service it—and no doubt to admire it, much to the chagrin of Lieutenant Ramcha, who leaned out of the cockpit of his own machine to shout at his mechanics to keep working instead of staring at the newcomer. Floating up to Lalah, the lieutenant asked, "What's he doing here?"

"He's been transferred," she answered immediately. "I don't know if the captain will put him in your team or keep him apart, but you should probably look forward to working with him."

Ramcha raised his brow. "Working with that monster?" he asked. "The mechanics might look forward to it, but I'm not sure about Bard. He lost a brother to the Gundam in Odessa."

The girl shrugged. "Considering how many people the Trojan Horse lost in Odessa, I'm not sure the ensign can complain." Ramcha's brow furrowed at this attitude, but Lalah was no longer paying attention. She had again turned her gaze toward the Gundam, as the cockpit hatch opened and Amuro climbed out, quickly moving toward one of the mechanics and motioning toward something on his suit. Lalah immediately understood what had happened, and grinned. Turning back to Ramcha, she teased, "Your other ensign is making life difficult again."

The lieutenant scowled. "What did she do this time?" Not bothering to wait for an answer, since he could already guess what had happened, Ramcha floated straight back to his Rick Dom. Quickly thereafter, his irritated voice filled the radio waves, at least as far as the Minovsky field would allow it to.

Lalah didn't bother to listen, as the Corebooster followed the Gundam into the hangar. With no place to dock, the fighter was forced to simply float as the _Zanzibar_'s surprised technicians scurried to find a place to house the machine, even temporarily. Under the confusion, Lalah sensed a hint of exasperation from another group, and soon realized that a launch had landed before the suits had even started to enter the hangar; it was now stranded, as the passengers could not disembark while the hangar's hatch was open. Turning toward the hatch, she saw the outline of Ensign Heidfeld's GM against the moon, and shook her head. "Still as slow as ever," she muttered.

Apparently Amuro agreed; she felt his irritation as he sympathized with her. It was that, though, that triggered his realization that Lalah had been in the hangar the entire time, because he quickly turned to face her, nearly unbalancing himself as he did so. The girl chuckled at his expense, and Amuro's embarrassment filtered through. It was tinged with nervousness, though, and Lalah didn't have to pry in order to learn why. She couldn't help herself, and laughed outright. "Poor Amuro," she said aloud, although she didn't activate her radio; she knew he would feel the gist of what she wanted him to understand. "She didn't hurt you too badly, did she?"

Even though she didn't need to see his glare to feel his displeasure, Amuro was good enough to send one her way.

Before Lalah could tease her victim any more, she was aware of a sudden jolt of surprise from her captain, and glanced over at the Gelgoog's open cockpit as Char kicked off toward the still-floating Corebooster. Even as the technicians worked to secure the machine to the floor, using anything from cables to bungee cords, the cockpit canopy suddenly opened, allowing the pilot to leap out and float forward. 'Artesia,' Lalah thought, raising a brow. 'I wonder what she's doing here.'

The captain apparently wondered the same thing, as he reached her and began to speak. Lalah looked on at the discussion, even as she felt Amuro float up to her. She turned her eyes away when he put his helmet against hers. "That was not funny, Lalah."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," she told him, still grinning.

"She'll kill me!"

"Only if you start trouble."

Amuro's eyes narrowed, but eventually he sighed and gave up. "Still not funny," he managed weakly.

It was at that point that Jenna Heidfeld finally managed to enter the hangar—at which point she was immediately ordered to vacate it again until room could be found or made for her GM. Needless to say, any Newtype in the vicinity could feel her temper spike yet again, but there was nothing she could do but follow orders. Soon, the hatch was finally closed, and the new crewmembers aboard the launch were at last allowed to disembark.

/**/

"Ensign! Round up as many people as you need to categorize the people we've just received! Take down names, ranks, specialties, and former occupations. Put them up in those quarters that were just vacated. Don't bother with the new pilots; I'll deal with them personally."

The ensign in question saluted. "Yes, sir!" he replied, quickly turning toward the launch as those that had been transferred to the _Zanzibar_ disembarked. "You there! Give me that notepad!"

Char doffed his pilot suit's helmet as he turned toward Artesia once again. "I didn't expect Bright to act so quickly to transfer his men, so this will be a little haphazard until we figure out exactly what to do with the newcomers."

Artesia nodded. "Bright told me that he was rushing. There are a few reasons for it, but mainly he's trying to prove his trustworthiness."

"M'Quve wouldn't trust him no matter how useful he proved himself."

"He's less worried about what M'Quve thinks and more worried about your opinion." Char frowned as Artesia added, "He knows that you're not going to follow the colonel's lead forever."

Char shook his head. "He's assuming that I'm ambitious?"

Artesia glared at him. "He's assuming that you'll overthrow Gihren for the sake of the Deikun legacy."

"What?" Char hissed, glancing around to make sure that no one had overheard his sister's remark. Lowering his voice, he demanded, "Did you tell him?"

"I didn't have a choice, Casval," replied Artesia, her glare intensifying. "You left me a case full of gold. Bright was kind enough to ask for an explanation, rather than just opening the letter you left with it. So I was kind enough to give him the truth."

Char narrowed his eyes behind his mask. "If he reveals anything to M'Quve, we'll be dead before—"

"Bright trusts M'Quve about as much as you do," Artesia interrupted. "Considering what happened at Odessa, can you blame him?"

"So Bright sides with me, then?"

Artesia shook her head sadly. "He doesn't know who to side with, except that it's not M'Quve. He wants to know what you're planning before he gives you his full support."

Char nodded, but he was still somewhat confused. "Who else is there to side with?"

"I suggested that he side with Zenna if he wasn't sure he could trust you."

Char's brow rose, although his sister couldn't see it. "You must not trust me much either, if you're suggesting that he prop up a Zabi instead."

"I just want to help him. He's been good to me; I'll return the favor."

Char sighed and nodded. "As long as it's not M'Quve, I'm not worried about his loyalties," he said eventually. Turning his gaze toward the observation deck, he saw the Gundam pilot in conversation with Lalah, and couldn't help but scowl. "I wonder what those two are doing."

"Don't worry about them," Artesia advised in a low voice. "I've already warned Amuro what will happen if he goes any further than talk."

Char turned back to his sister in surprise. "I've barely spoken to you at all in several years! Now you're already involving yourself in my love life?"

The woman grinned. "Well, I wasn't thinking about it that way, but if you want to call it that, I won't argue. I was more worried about preserving my own."

"Oh, is that all?" The captain chuckled. Then his sister's words sank in. "Wait, what?" Artesia's grin grew as Char's stare fell on Amuro again. "You—with—Are you insane, Artesia? Was there _no_ one else on that ship?"

"Well, there was Kai Shiden," answered Artesia easily. "Would you want me with him instead?"

Char glared. "He couldn't possibly have been a worse choice than _this_."

Artesia laughed again. "You'd be surprised," she said. By this time, the two had reached the observation deck, and the former Federation pilot grabbed the railing to vault over it. Char followed as she said, "You should be glad, Casval. If I wasn't there to keep Amuro in check, you know exactly who he'd look to for comfort."

Char clenched his teeth at this, glancing again at Lalah and Amuro. By this time, the two had noticed their arrival, and Amuro had already extended the distance between himself and Lalah to keep Artesia's wrath in check. Char was not amused, and even Lalah's laughter at his attitude did not dissuade him from considering what punishment he could be given for slaughtering the Gundam's pilot in cold blood. "Ensign Amuro Ray," he snapped, "what kind of landing was that? You ran into my ensign as though you couldn't even see her!"

Char felt a shift from nervousness to outrage—but that shift was tinged with understanding, and the Red Comet quickly realized that Amuro was a more powerful Newtype than he had thought. "Sir, I would far rather keep my mobile suit undamaged than have to keep your hangar crews busy on unnecessary repairs. Perhaps your ensign cannot say the same thing, considering her own landing."

"Bold words, Ensign," growled Char, although he personally admired the boy's reply. "That still doesn't excuse you from your carelessness. My ensign was quite right; this is her ship, and has been far longer than it has been yours. I expect you to show her precedence, Amuro Ray."

Amuro saluted sharply. "Sir. I will launch immediately."

"What?"

The boy's expression didn't change as he explained, "I'm taking up Ensign Heidfeld's docking space. I'll fix that immediately, sir."

"You're getting smart, Ensign. I'm not impressed." Char's irritation was increasing by the moment. "I'll tell you when to launch. Right now, you'll stay put." Turning to Lalah before the boy could reply, Char said, "Would you escort Petty Officer Mass to her quarters?"

Lalah frowned, but nodded. "Yes, Captain," she answered. Catching Artesia's eye, she said, "Let's go. We'll leave the boys to their game."

Artesia glared at Char, but didn't protest as Lalah laid a hand on her shoulder and led her away. Char returned his gaze to Amuro. "Follow me, Ensign."

"Sir," replied the pilot, following as Char turned around and kicked off toward the nearest corridor. The two passed through the airlock quickly, just as the hangar crew announced that the launch was free to return to space. Char remained silent as he led Amuro down the corridor for a short while, before suddenly reaching out to the wall to stop himself from floating farther. Amuro let go of his handgrip and waited as the masked man formulated what he wanted to say.

Eventually Char decided to blunt. "When I asked Commander Bright for some of his men, I specifically asked for you, Amuro Ray. I have fought you multiple times, and I wondered if I would be able to see what it was that made you so good." The captain turned toward his new ensign. "So do _not_ make me regret that request. I'm sure you already know what I mean. I want you to keep your personal feelings off of this ship. That includes your feelings for Lalah." Char leaned forward. "And it _certainly_ includes your feelings for my sister. I hope I am clear on this matter."

Amuro nodded. "Perfectly, Char."

The captain's eyes narrowed behind his mask at this lack of respect toward a superior, but he had learned enough about the _White Base_ and those on board to know that military regulations rarely applied amongst the crew. He was also well aware that Amuro, who had only ever dealt with him as a pilot, did not view him as a superior, but as an equal—neither had managed to kill the other in three months' worth of battles, after all. Even so, the _Zanzibar_ was not the _White Base_, and Char Aznable was not Bright Noa. The latter might have allowed insubordination; the former would not. "You mean, 'Perfectly, _sir_.'"

Amuro decided not to argue. "Yes, sir, I did."

'Well, he didn't put up much of a fight there,' Char thought to himself as he contemplated the other pilot. 'Perhaps I can deal with him after all.' Aloud he said, "I'll hold you to that, Ensign Amuro. The last thing I want on this ship is a confrontation that could have easily been avoided." Turning around once again, the captain added, "Keep up. Your quarters are a deck up, but I need to be on the bridge as soon as possible, so I'll be rushing."

"Yes, sir."


	9. Amateur Espionage

_It has been about two years since this story was last updated; a lot has happened since that time, but very little of it has been fanfiction-related. Unfortunately, I got stuck on a scene that simply would not come, and as I became more frustrated, I lost more and more interest in the story as a whole. In order to come back to this story and actually try to write it to completion, I would need to reread the whole thing simply to remind myself where I left off. Thankfully, I have notes to tell me where the story is supposed to go from here, or at least the next few steps. But unless I find the motivation to get through the scene giving me trouble right now, I will not be able to get to the parts that use those notes in the first place._

_In short, this story is on hiatus. The chapters I am publishing now and in the near future have been sitting on my laptop for years, as I did not want to update anything when I was not writing more material to keep my comfortable cushion. But it has definitely been too long, as Zero Wing 032 reminded me a couple of days ago; there is no reason to sit on this material if I already have it, whether I continue with the project or not. With that in mind, here is the first of the remaining chapters, with more to come over the next couple of weeks. I am especially happy to publish the first scene in this chapter, as the original version was conceived through a misunderstanding of Anaheim Electronic's part in the One Year War, and the scene itself was rewritten at least twice in order to make this audacious (and, to be honest, somewhat nonsensical) breach of cover more palatable for readers. As much as I am still not happy with the fact that this scene is still something of a plot hole, I have been forced to accept that it will not get any better with any further rewrites. Instead, I give it to you as-is, and hope that you like it regardless._

_Pointless Disclaimer: I still don't have the money to buy Gundam, but at least now I own the Trilogy on DVD._

Late edit: I apologize to Zero Wing 032 for mistaking him for someone else. I had originally called him "Zero Wing Alpha," mainly because I have recently started seeing Alpha's name in my notifications list again as he updates his work. This time, though, I'm pretty sure I've got the right reviewer.  


/**/

Lieutenant Commander Torren liked his new identity. 'Mr. Bichner,' they called him again and again; it wasn't a bad name, and apparently it came with a lot of perks that he would have to enjoy to the fullest during the short time he was to remain in Von Braun. Since Mr. Bichner was an official from the Zeonic Corporation, the perks at Torren's feet included access to the local executives of Anaheim Electronics, who were apparently expected to kowtow to any Zeon arms manufacturers that entered their offices. So the lieutenant commander assumed, considering the treatment he had been given.

At the moment, Torren was being escorted through the halls of the building's most luxurious floor by an employee that seemed more than happy to do anything the man told him to do. The officer took his time as he walked, admiring the decorative touches that could be found practically everywhere he looked, and wondering just how much wealth Anaheim had accumulated throughout, and even due to, the war that had waged around them. Of course, the same could be said of Zeon's manufacturing giants, especially their arms manufacturers, who refused to build anything unless they were paid, and the chatter that the lieutenant commander overheard regarding his arrival gave him an indication of the opinion that most of Anaheim's employees held for their rivals on the other side of the moon. Anaheim had refrained from entering the war, unlike Zeonic's firm allegiance to Side 3, but it had been fairly clear that this side of the moon had hoped for a Federation victory; for that reason, Torren found himself an object of scorn, but also of fear, as his hosts expected his judgment to determine the course of their company's prosperity for the foreseeable future.

Or at least, Torren assumed that to be the case. While Colonel M'Quve had hoped that at least one of the spies sent to Von Braun would be able to make contact with Anaheim Electronics, whose most prolific factory could be found in the city, there had been no means of gaining the information necessary to make that possible, and knowledge of Anaheim's current situation in relation to Zeon and its own manufacturers was sorely lacking. In the end, Torren had taken the initiative to come to the Anaheim offices after a careful investigation of the real Mr. Bichner's belongings, including his personal computer's documents and daily schedule, had revealed that the man was a Zeonic representative traveling to Von Braun to inspect Anaheim's assets as part of a deal reached between Zeon's arms manufacturers, Anaheim Electronics, and Gihren Zabi. Luckily for him, M'Quve's hopes for contact with Anaheim had translated into a single disk, filled with technical readouts of a few of Zeon's war machines, which had been given to the group as a gift to Anaheim in order to catch the corporation's interest. Upon learning the details of his new identity, Torren had appropriated that disk, which now rested in his jacket pocket. If he was caught by Zeon, that information would be enough to put him before the firing squad. But it would not be with him for much longer.

The guide suddenly stopped and motioned to a door on Torren's left. "Right in here, Mr. Bichner," he said, opening the door and stepping aside. Torren walked through the door to find himself in an empty conference room, and turned to the guide with a glare. The man smiled nervously. "Your arrival was unexpected, sir. Our branch executives are on their way as we speak; they'll arrive soon enough."

"I expect that to be the case," 'Mr. Bichner' replied irritably. "It's been a very long shuttle ride, and I expect to have something to show for it when I go back to Granada."

The guide swallowed. "I can assure you, sir, there won't be a problem regarding that. Our executives are very eager to speak with their colleagues from Zeon's manufacturing corporations. Your arrival provides them with an opportunity that they wouldn't dream of ignoring."

Torren's brow hitched upward at this statement; the guide's flattery was not only highly imaginative, but also rather annoying. "Is that so?" he asked, though he turned away from the other man before he could answer. "Do you know when they will arrive?"

"Mr. Redding will likely arrive within ten minutes, sir," answered the guide promptly. "Perhaps the others will be later, but there shouldn't be any delay later than half an hour."

"That's longer than I would prefer."

"I'm, uh, sorry, sir."

Torren nodded again. "That will be all." He didn't bother to turn back as the guide stepped out of the room with relief, closing the door behind him. Instead, the lieutenant commander let his eyes wander, taking in everything the conference room had to offer. It wasn't much, compared to the rest of the floor he had just walked through: On his right was a tastefully-colored wall displaying some flyers of Anaheim's better-known products, while on his left was the conference table itself, and beyond that a series of windows that looked out over the streets of Von Braun. Torren made his way around the table to gaze out of these windows at the city's vibrant streets, wondering at the relaxed atmosphere that surrounded him. "These people's most important industry backed the wrong horse in the biggest war in history," he said to himself. "How can they be so calm?"

His musings were interrupted when the man who had just left the room suddenly returned. "Mr. Bichner, Mr. Redding is here. He's in the elevator as we speak."

"Good," Torren replied, smiling for the first time since arriving in the Anaheim offices. "Bring him in the moment he turns up. Do the same for anyone else that is coming. How many am I waiting for?"

The guide blinked in surprise, and Torren immediately realized that he had made a mistake; someone who had an appointment with Anaheim's executives would already know who he was supposed to meet. "Only three more after Mr. Redding," the guide answered after that slight hesitation. "Mr. Fergus, Ms. Alton, and Mr. Cardish. They won't be long."

"Thank you," replied Torren, before returning his gaze to the window and watching the nearest traffic light turn red. The door closing was the only indication that the other man had taken Torren's lack of interest as a signal to leave the room again.

This time, the wait was even shorter; it was as though the guide had closed the door only long enough to turn around and see his superior behind him, because the door was almost immediately reopened. "Mr. Bichner, Mr. Redding is here."

Torren turned as a large, flustered man hurriedly entered the room. His suit was expensive, but the officer could see that it was an older piece, as Mr. Redding seemed almost unable to fit in it. Clearly this man had done very well for himself over the course of the war, if his increased girth was any indication. "Mr. Redding," began Torren, "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"You would be, wouldn't you?" the other man said sourly, not even paying attention to Torren as he strode—as well as a man of his girth could stride—toward the nearest chair. "I am aware, Mr. Bichner, that our—" Mr. Redding glanced up and immediately stopped talking; Torren wondered just how much of his nervousness was visible in his expression as the other man's eyes narrowed. "Who the hell are you?"

The lieutenant commander glanced at the guide, who remained just inside the boardroom door. "Excuse us," he said firmly, fully expecting the other man to cooperate as he had done before.

When the guide reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol, therefore, Torren was understandably surprised. "Who are you?" the formerly obsequious man repeated for his employer, not yet leveling his weapon but ensuring that Torren recognized the threat.

The officer glared at the man before turning his eyes back to Redding. "I would rather answer that question with the fewest eavesdroppers possible, Mr. Redding," he said. "Please tell your man to leave us for the moment. I promise you and your colleagues full disclosure, but I can't be sure who else can be trusted."

"You're standing in the offices of Anaheim Electronics," replied Redding with a scoff. "No one in this building is remotely untrustworthy. Except, of course, you."

Torren's glare intensified, if only to mask his growing worry. "Be that as it may," he said, "I am in no position to take risks. Send your man out, Mr. Redding. Please."

Redding frowned. "For a man who apparently did no research at all into the man he was going to impersonate, I'd say you've taken quite a large risk already—"

"Geoffrey, why are you standing in the doorway? Let me by."

The attention of everyone in the room immediately turned back to the doorway as another well-dressed man appeared. The guide opened his mouth to reply, but the newcomer forced his way by before the other man could explain the situation, holding his hand out to Torren. "I'm sorry I couldn't make our video conference, Mr. Bichner. My name is Alfred Cardish; I'm an assistant to Ms. Alton, who will be here shortly. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

'Well, that explains how my cover went to hell,' Torren thought, wondering how long ago this video conference had been held. Instead of taking Cardish's hand, the lieutenant commander shook his head. "You might want to talk to Mr. Redding here before you start making apologies," he said with a chuckle. "Regardless, thanks for coming."

"Alfred, this man is not Mr. Bichner," Redding growled. "I don't know who he is or what he wants, but he is not worth our time here. You might as well leave."

Cardish's smile fell into an expression of confusion. "Who else knows of this meeting?" he asked, glancing at Redding before turning a far more suspicious look on Torren.

The lieutenant commander shrugged. "You'd know a lot more about that than I would, Mr. Cardish." Glancing back at the guide, Geoffrey, he said, "You said we're waiting for two more?"

"They won't be coming, you can be sure," Redding replied in the guide's place, pulling out his portable phone. "Geoffrey, ring for security."

"What do we need security for, Damien?" a faint voice said from the doorway, drawing all eyes to the newcomer as he entered the room. Torren's first reaction was to wonder how Anaheim had managed to keep this old man alive; his hobbling step was the least of his health problems, the officer was sure. Geoffrey immediately stepped up to offer the old man his arm, which he declined with a wave of his knotted hand as he leaned on his cane all the more. Making his way to the nearest seat, the man added, "I'm fairly sure that any threat that requires security to play its hand would have been thwarted at the gate." Sinking into his seat, the old man glanced up at Torren and began to smile, until he recognized that all was not as he had thought it. "I know that my eyes are beginning to fail me," he murmured, "but I know they are not as far gone as you would like me to believe. You are not the man with whom I spoke regarding our relationship with Zeonic Corporation."

"I am not," Torren agreed with a nod. "I'm sorry for the deception, but I had no other ideas on how to get through your front door without being turned away."

"Well, congratulations," the old man said in apparent good humor. "You've made it quite a bit farther than that today. Not that that is going to stop us from throwing you right back out." Turning to Redding, he said, "I suppose you were right about the security."

"You don't want to throw me away before you hear what I have to say," Torren told the man as calmly as he could. "I come with business."

"So does Gihren Zabi," replied Mr. Redding with a scoff. "And I'm sure he doesn't appreciate his business being hijacked by yours." He nodded again to Geoffrey, who nodded back and turned to the door once again.

Strangely, though, the old man held up his hand. "Get the security men, but don't let them interrupt us. When Irena gets here, have her wait outside."

"Mr. Fergus?" Even as the guide nodded before hurrying out the door, Cardish had already turned to the old man in surprise.

Redding glared as the old man, Mr. Fergus, turned back to Torren. "I must admit, you have intrigued me," he said. "You have business that requires you to commit fraud in order to bring it to us? You're stepping on some awfully big toes by doing what you've done today, and I can't imagine that you'd do it without reason. So, now that Geoffrey is out of the room as you no doubt wanted, I'll give you one chance to tell us who you are and what you want." The man smiled. "Please be sure to make it worth our time."

Torren blinked in surprise at the sudden reversal, but he quickly nodded as he recognized that Fergus was offering him exactly what he had asked from Redding. "I'll do my best," he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. A growl from Redding, of course, ensured that he revealed what he had retrieved very slowly: the disk he had brought from M'Quve. "My name is Torren Burase. Until December 28th, I was a lieutenant commander serving in Rear Admiral Kycilia Zabi's Granada fleet. I'm here on behalf of Colonel M'Quve, who also served Lady Kycilia."

Mr. Fergus raised his brow. "I suppose you have proof of this," he murmured.

"I'm not going to carry my military identification with me while I'm pretending I'm someone else, if that's what you're asking," Torren replied.

Apparently Fergus had been expecting that answer. "Let us say that I believe you, for now. Who you are isn't nearly as important as why you're here."

Torren nodded. "That's true," he agreed easily. "That's why I brought this." He motioned with the disk he had retrieved from his jacket pocket a moment earlier. "Colonel M'Quve authorized whoever managed to contact Anaheim first to provide this information. I would say that it represents a fortune in future profits, if you're willing to make a deal with my superiors and help us."

"Specifics, please," growled Redding, who was clearly not pleased with the situation.

Torren nodded again. "Do you have a projector?"

Cardish made himself useful by pressing a switch hidden on the underside of the conference table. Immediately a display of television sets emerged from the center of the table, hidden underneath a retractable panel that had previously been indistinguishable from the rest of the tabletop. Torren glanced from the televisions back to Cardish, only to blink in surprise as he saw a keyboard set into the table in front of the younger executive, appearing like the television sets from underneath paneling in the conference table. Cardish reached out for the disk as he said, "I'll put the information on display as soon as I'm sure it won't cause harm to our computer system."

Torren tried not to grimace as he handed Cardish the only real bargaining chip he had brought with him. "I don't expect any problems," he said, hoping to hide his nervousness with a forced air of nonchalance. Glancing over at Fergus, the lieutenant commander knew that the old man had not been fooled.

"You seem awfully nervous, Mr. Bichner," the executive commented, raising his brow. "I would think that a military man would know how to handle his fear."

Torren scowled. "I suppose a desk jockey is entitled to his opinion," he grumbled.

"The scanner hasn't found any compatibility or corruption issues," Cardish announced as Fergus chuckled. "Shall I bring up the information, Mr. Fergus?"

"Of course, boy," replied the old man, even as Redding frowned in irritation. "We're humoring our guest, remember? Let's see what he wants to show us."

Torren's scowl intensified as he wondered if Mr. Fergus was simply tricking him into giving up his information before handing him over to Anaheim's security detail, but he was at least partially satisfied by the expressions that came over the executives' faces upon glancing up at the television sets and seeing what that information really was. Redding was particularly wide-eyed as he muttered, "How in the world…?"

The lieutenant commander could not keep himself from smirking smugly at this reaction. "And you wanted to send me away," he murmured loudly enough for Redding to hear, and ignored the fat man's retaliatory glare as he said more clearly, "You no doubt understand the technical details of this display better than I ever could, but even so, I know quality work when I see it. More importantly, I've seen this machine in action. You could do far worse than get your hands on the technical data for the MS-09R Rick Dom, gentlemen."

Cardish glanced up from the display long enough to glare at Torren one more time. "Do you think we'll believe that you're just giving this information away?" he sneered, narrowing his eyes. "We're all businessmen here, Mr. Bichner. What is the return you get for giving us this information?"

"From the Rick Dom data?" asked Torren with a frown, returning Cardish's glare with one of his own. "We hope to get mobile suits, built by you." Ignoring Cardish's surprised blinking and the sputter that came from Redding, the lieutenant commander added, "From the warship data my superior has also provided you with"—leaning forward, Torren pressed a few buttons on Cardish's keyboard to switch the image on the displays, revealing the well-used _Musai_-class light cruiser in all its technical glory—"we hope to get new warships, as well as proper repairs for our old ones, also from you."

Fergus's smile never left his face, even as he stared at Torren. "You are demanding a great deal from us, Mr. Bichner," he said with a chuckle. "And what exactly would you do with new warships and mobile suits, even if we were willing to build them for you?"

Torren's frown intensified. "Are you aware of what happened to the Granada fleet, Mr. Fergus?"

The old man's brow furrowed. "Lady Kycilia was recently killed while resisting arrest for treason, was she not? I imagine that her personal fleet was impounded or split into pieces."

Torren shook his head again. "Lady Kycilia was killed while en route to A Baoa Qu. Her fleet became a target of the fortress defenses, and was mostly destroyed."

Redding's eyes widened. "And you served in this fleet," he muttered, realization dawning on his expression. "You're a traitor to Zeon, aren't you? That's why you're after us to build you weapons."

Cardish's expression quickly stretched into a mask of horror. "You want Anaheim Electronics involved in a rebellion against Gihren Zabi? Are you serious?!"

Torren cast an annoyed glance at the youngest executive. "If I weren't serious, do you honestly think I would be here? I put myself at risk of torture and execution to bring this proposition to you."

"Then you've wasted your time!" declared Cardish, getting to his feet. "This company is in no position to stand against the entire Earth Sphere—"

"What Mr. Cardish wants to know is what reason we would possibly have to agree to your terms," Fergus interrupted, holding his hand up to silence his younger colleague as he added, "I assume that you mean to pay us somehow."

Torren nodded. "Of course," he said. He motioned to the display. "This represents some of the best of Zeon's technological achievements. With this, even while Zeonic and Zimmand try to tear you apart, you can prove to Gihren Zabi that you are worth keeping around. This will save your company the time and effort of remaining relevant when your assets are being stripped."

"What makes you think that Zeonic and Zimmand won't strip these assets from us as well, to say nothing of claiming fraud when they find them?" Redding pointed out.

Torren shrugged. "That depends solely on how well you can hide these new assets of yours," he answered. "Colonel M'Quve seems to believe that you are capable of hiding at least forty percent of your assets from Zeon's inspectors as it is. Are you telling me you can't hide a factory or two?"

"Be that as it may," Fergus said, "this… 'Rick Dom' is no longer Zeon's weapon of choice. Any design we develop based on these data cannot compare to Zeon's newest mobile suit, and I have no doubt that Gihren's arms manufacturers are already well on their way to making that model obsolete as well."

The lieutenant commander smiled. "You're talking about the Gelgoog," he said. "I'm afraid I've only seen it fly once or twice, and I've never gotten a good look at it. But it is a marvelous machine." Torren's smile grew. "It's yours, as long as you agree to our conditions."

Redding and Cardish both gaped; Redding recovered first. "Are those specs on this disk also?"

"No," Torren answered, causing the fat man to scowl. "You're a businessman, Mr. Redding. Without risk, there is no reward; but there are good risks and there are stupid risks. Colonel M'Quve can't be expected to give you all of our bargaining chips until you make a binding agreement that we'll see some return from the exchange. If everything I had to offer you was already on that disk, you would dispose of me now and make the best of your free gift." The officer glanced over at Cardish, who was scowling once again. "Am I wrong?"

"We don't appreciate those accusations, Mr. Bichner," Cardish replied as civilly as his expression would allow. Torren noted that he never actually denied them.

Mr. Fergus, on the other hand, seemed more than willing to play along. "What would you consider a binding agreement, Mr. Bichner?" he asked, a small smile still on his lips.

Torren frowned. "Colonel M'Quve has asked to meet with one of you in order to hammer out the final details. He can't come here himself, so he's tasked me with bringing you to the remainder of the fleet. Will that be a problem?"

"So he wants a hostage, then," Fergus said with a derisive snort. "How long does he mean to keep this person with him?"

"That would be one of those final details, Mr. Fergus," replied Torren.

Redding scoffed. "Of course, we only find that out when we're already trapped." He turned to Fergus. "Why are we listening to him at all? You should have let security do its job."

Fergus, though, was still looking at Torren. "Mr. Bichner," he finally said, "I will send one of our people with you. However," he said, loudly enough to overpower Cardish's surprised and Redding's outraged exclamations, "this person will be accompanied by certain members of our security team, specifically those with a technical background. They are not to be hampered from gathering information during their stay; any hint of interference, and the negotiations between your group and this company will not continue. All negotiations will be carried out with our representative as a liaison; there will be no talks without the representative present. That will be our guarantee that your hostage is still alive and well. Do we have an understanding?"

Torren hesitated. "I'm not sure how the colonel will take that ultimatum, Mr. Fergus," he said after a moment to collect his thoughts. "But I'll bring your people back with me regardless, so that he can learn this for himself. You'll have your answer as soon as we can get it to you."

Fergus scoffed again, but he was still smiling. "I suppose I can't ask for more," he murmured. Turning to the door, he said, "Irena?"

The door opened at his word, giving Torren quite a surprise. Glancing back, he scowled furiously as he saw not only the woman 'Irena,' but also Geoffrey and a security team of at least ten men, all of whom had been standing directly in front of the door and had likely heard every word of the negotiations, despite Torren's insistence on secrecy. "Do your people have no understanding of the word 'confidential,' Mr. Fergus?"

"They understand it perfectly, Mr. Bichner," Fergus replied amiably. "Otherwise they would not work here. Indeed, Ms. Alton here is one of our most trusted associates." Turning his attention again to Irena, a middle-aged woman whose narrowed eyes were turned on Torren as she inspected him, the old man stated, "You know the situation."

Alton nodded. "I heard your agreement with this man," she replied. Her tone of voice made her displeasure evident.

"Good," Fergus replied, not bothering to acknowledge his colleague's irritation. "You'd better pack for a long stay, then. I trust you to choose your own security team, of course; give me the roster before you leave so I can replace them as soon as possible."

Alton blinked at this. "What?!" she hissed. "You're sending _me_?!"

"Yes, of course. Of the four of us, you're by far the most qualified."

Torren glanced from Fergus to Alton and back, wondering just what Fergus thought qualified this woman to act as M'Quve's hostage, unless the old man only meant that she would give M'Quve the most trouble. Cardish and Redding would have been troublesome enough, but the lieutenant commander had the feeling that the colonel could have overpowered their complaints by simply raising the volume of his voice. Alton, though, made him wonder. She had barely spoken, but already the officer had the impression that this woman could be very stubborn when she wanted to be. More importantly, she seemed to know how to take care of herself; not only had Fergus suggested that she choose her own security team, but she was also armed, as it seemed that Geoffrey had given his gun to her before she had made her way into the room. The woman noticed the direction of Torren's gaze and raised her brow. "Is there a problem, Mr. Bichner?" she growled, shifting the hand that held the gun so that it was out of sight behind her back.

The officer returned his attention to the woman's face. "There might be," he admitted, thinking of M'Quve's reaction to this woman's presence. "But at least it won't be mine."

/**/

"I have a shipment of provisions that needs to get to L1 as soon as possible. How long would it take one of your shuttles to get there?"

The man behind the counter of Von Braun's leading shuttle-chartering service grinned. "Sir, there would be no difficulty in reaching L1 within twelve hours! Our company was founded to take tourists from Von Braun to Texas colony and back again as quickly as possible. You're hardly a tourist, sir, but our freighters won't take much longer than our passenger shuttles. We'll have your provisions to L1 before you know it."

Lieutenant Greene smiled. "I'm glad to hear that," he said as he glanced at the list of options displayed on the counter. "Which of these shuttles has the greatest storage capacity? I have a lot of stuff to move, and I don't want to have to take two trips."

"That would be our _Eagle_," replied the man behind the counter, pointing out the model on the list Greene was reading from. "Best we've got in that regard, although it's also the slowest in the fleet. It will make it to L1 in those twelve hours I promised you, but only just." The man glanced back up at the disguised lieutenant. "I assume that you're going to Side 5—or what's left of it, I should say."

Greene nodded. "My company was contracted to try to clear some of the debris for use as scrap and mineral resources in Side 3," he said. "We weren't sure how long we were going to end up staying out there, so some of us were sent to nearby towns to buy some supplies."

The other man nodded. "It never hurts to be careful in situations like that," he said. Smiling again, he said, "You'll be glad you came to us. As I said, we'll have your stuff there in no time flat."

'You just said twelve hours,' thought Greene to himself, but he kept a smile on his face nonetheless. "How soon can I start loading up?"

"As soon as we settle your account and assign a shuttle to your use," replied the man. "I'm putting you down for _Eagle_ 1138; it will be on your left as you enter our corporate hangar. As for your payment—"

"Before you calculate the price for L1, could you also put in a possible extension of the trip to Granada?" asked Lieutenant Greene.

Suddenly the other man's demeanor changed. His smile disappeared completely as he said, "You're going there too, huh? It seems like everyone is either coming from or going to Granada—and none of them are good news for us."

Greene shrugged. "I'm sorry to hear you say that," he said. "I don't know if they're all bad; they're just Zeon, that's all. All you have to do is get used to them, and you'll get along fine." Reaching for his wallet, where his new identity's credit card was kept, he added, "I don't actually know if I'm going there anyway. It all depends on what my bosses at Side 5 say. I might just send the shuttle back to you here. I'll pay for the extra trip regardless," the lieutenant added quickly.

The man gazed at his customer before inputting the pertinent information. "The minute you've paid your bill, you may begin loading your supplies," he said without looking up. "The shuttle leaves as soon as you are finished loading."

Greene smiled as the computer terminal in front of the other man whirred and produced a bill for the disguised lieutenant to sign. "Thank you very much," he murmured, picking up a pen and putting his false name down.

/**/

'The colonel won't like this,' Lieutenant Mellin thought in irritation as he glanced around. Everywhere he looked, the presence of Zeon made itself felt: The police stations were filled with Zeon uniforms, the manufacturing facilities of Anaheim Electronics were secured with Zeon rifles, and even the flagpoles outside the school buildings had been redecorated by the Zeon green and yellow. Even a cursory inspection made obvious that Von Braun was now a city under Zeon's complete domination, whether it wanted to be or not. There would be no safe haven here.

Of course, Mellin had guessed that as soon as he had stepped aboard the _Envy_, the shuttle that had brought him to Von Braun. He had not failed to notice that three of his colleagues on board had remained dressed in their Zeon uniforms, and learned as soon as he asked that there had been a small military escort on board the shuttle when it had been captured. Upon arriving in Von Braun, the lieutenant had seen more of the same, as Zeon soldiers took the place of the spaceport's usual customs and security officers. Luckily, the soldiers were not expecting trouble, and failed to notice the differences between the _Envy_'s passengers and the pictures on their identification cards. At the same time, though, the fact that many of those passengers had been chosen simply because of their resemblance to certain identification pictures meant that several of the men that had come to Von Braun, such as Lieutenant Mellin himself, had no idea what they were supposed to do there.

The lieutenant had initially panicked upon being chosen for intelligence duties, and had protested to no avail to the officer that had picked him out. However, it was quickly made clear to him that Captain Char, who was in direct command of the operation, was in no mood for delays, and Mellin's reluctance was ignored in favor of quickly sending the shuttle on its way. Appealing to the other officers aboard the shuttle, on the other hand, produced better results; all of them knew that a single mistake by any of them could get the rest killed. Therefore the lieutenant was given a few basic instructions, which in the end amounted to, "Stay out of the way and don't get killed." They were enough to get him through the Zeon soldiers guarding the spaceport, at least, and Mellin had done what he could thereafter to make himself unobtrusive while still observing the enemy presence around him.

Of course, he hardly had to sneak around to see Zeon soldiers patrolling the streets and guarding the police stations. They made themselves obvious, sneering at the passersby, harassing the women, and ostentatiously searching bags and briefcases for hidden weapons. Zeon soldiers manned checkpoints to and from the spaceport, and cut off the roads leading to the city's government buildings and life support access points. There was nowhere the inexperienced lieutenant could sneak that would not be under Zeon surveillance. For that reason, he sought the only place in which he could be relatively certain of some privacy, if only for the few moments he required to regain his composure after one soldier looked his way for a second too long.

Finding an empty stall in the nearest public restroom he could find, Mellin barely kept himself from slamming the door and locked it with undue haste. He turned to the toilet with a grimace of distaste. He knew that his rented car would have been a better hiding place—if he had truly given himself away, he would at least have been able to give them a chase before they captured him—but after his last encounter with Zeon security, there was no way for him to avoid the stop without making himself a great deal more conspicuous. So the lieutenant made the most of his opportunity, calming himself with deep breaths even as he sought to ignore the stench that surrounded him. He gave himself a few minutes to clear his head, trying to forget his situation for as long as the restroom stall would allow him to while he hoped that he could regain his composure well enough to fool any other soldier he might meet once he left his impromptu sanctuary. Then, after finally persuading himself that any more time spent in hiding would only make him seem suspicious, the young officer turned back to the door and unbolted the lock.

Having spent so much time calming his nerves had distracted him, however. By the time Mellin realized that he had been listening to the sound of approaching boots for the past minute, he had already opened the door to his stall, and found himself blinking at a Zeon corporal walking toward him. The lieutenant failed to school his surprise, but despite his expression, the soldier simply nodded to him as he turned into the stall next to him, closing the door behind him. Mellin swallowed, before sighing in relief; apparently obvious shock and nervousness was common among the populace when confronted with Zeon soldiers, armed or not. That said, the lieutenant also took the arrival of an enemy as his signal to leave, and he was about to do just that when his luck apparently ran out.

"How do you stand it?"

There was no way to avoid answering the question, as there was no one else in the restroom; the soldier was obviously speaking to him. "What do you mean, sir?" the lieutenant asked, hoping that his voice was not trembling as much as it appeared to be for him.

"This damn gravity," the soldier clarified in a frustrated growl. "I don't know what kind of lunatic decided to build settlements on this godforsaken rock, but whoever it was clearly didn't think the project through. How do they expect people to piss in a pot when there's barely any weight to it? It just won't fall!"

Mellin blinked again. "I've never had any problem with it," he said cautiously. "No one else I know of has, either."

"If you'd ever visited the colonies, you'd think otherwise," the soldier said. "It may flow sideways a little after it comes out of you, but it least it goes DOWN instead of just hanging there for a few minutes." The lieutenant, a native of Side 3, chose not to answer; thankfully, the corporal on the other side of the door did not wait for him. "Why would anyone would want to live in a city with no gravity control is beyond me. Every time I move, it's awkward! I can't even imagine trying to run!"

The lieutenant raised his brow. "Aren't there men that Zeon could send who grew up on the moon?"

"Only the ones who joined up before the war started," the corporal answered. His voice gained a slight edge when he added, "All of you could see the war coming, but so few bothered to get involved… Too lazy to fight for freedom, I guess."

Mellin understood the sentiment, but obviously that was something the soldier did not need to know. "I… I'm sorry," he murmured. Then, for spite if nothing else, he decided to take a bit more offense to that statement than he really had, for the lunarians' sake if nothing else. "But we had our families to consider! You know how the Feddies work; nothing's sacred to them!"

The soldier waited a moment before responding, but after a beat the lieutenant heard him sigh. "I heard that one a few times, too," he muttered. "I suppose I shouldn't complain too badly. At least I knew Zum City was safe enough."

"That's… that's good," Mellin replied, suddenly reminded of everyone he had been forced to leave behind in Side 3 with his defection, from his fellow then-cadets from the academy to his own family and friends, now scattered throughout the colony cluster after the evacuation of Mahal colony for the construction of the Solar Ray. It took the sound of a zipper to alert the lieutenant that the enemy soldier was finally done. "Damn it, I'm late," he said suddenly, as though he had just glanced at his watch. "Have a good day, sir. I hope you get transferred back home soon."

"So do I, man, so do I." The lieutenant, having already made it to the exit, had barely heard the soldier's reply before shutting the door behind him.

/**/

The _Eagle_ was not as large as the picture had made it seem, and Greene initially wasn't sure if it would be able to hold all of the supplies he had purchased during his time in Von Braun. The shipping service had not lied, though. The shuttle was a fine transport, as it was both small and spacious, making for a fast vessel that could still be expected to haul great loads. It took all of Greene's supplies with room to spare, and the former Zeon officer allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

The problem with the vast cargo area was that it was created by taking all the available space from the shuttle. Since there was no means by which the designers could take space away from the vital systems such as the engine and fuel tanks, they took it instead from the crew. Greene, sitting in between the pilot and copilot in the third and final seat, wondered how the pilots in the shipping service could possibly survive the regular use of this particular craft.

When he asked the pilot, though, he found that the answer didn't surprise him: "They pay me a good bonus to use this ship. I'll take that over comfort any day."

Of course, the lieutenant could not say the same, especially since he had been charged extra—no doubt paying for his pilot's bonus—for taking the largest freighter in the charter service's shuttle fleet. The cramped quarters made sleep impossible, and Greene's unfamiliarity with the two crew members made conversation difficult; in the end, the three men spent most of their time in silence. The crew took it in stride, as if they spent most of their service time without speaking a word. For the officer between them, the trip was far less routine, and therefore far less comfortable.

It was with blessed relief that the shuttle finally reached L1, or at least the orbit at which the remains of Side 5 floated. Although the colony rubble floated at a different point along that orbit, Greene asked the crew not to go any farther. "I don't want to be billed your hazard pay," he said with a chuckle. "With what we're doing in there, it could be a lot more dangerous than it would be normally. This shuttle isn't meant to be dodging debris on a moment's notice, after all."

The crewmembers couldn't argue, and quickly agreed when Greene requested to exit through the airlock in order to attract his comrades' notice through the use of a flare. The lieutenant quickly dressed in the normal suit he had purchased in Von Braun for this purpose—as bringing a Zeon normal suit into Von Braun would have alerted customs that something was amiss—and did his job within a moment; almost immediately after the flare exploded against the blackness of space, Greene was back inside the shuttle, wondering just how long it would take for M'Quve's men to recover him.

The answer was not long at all. Within an hour, a dark shape appeared in front of the _Eagle_, growing larger by the minute. Despite the relatively high Minovsky field density, which Greene assumed was due to the proximity of M'Quve's warships, the shuttle's pilot activated the radio and stated, "This is _Eagle_ 1138 from Von Braun, _Eagle_ 1138. We were chartered to bring supplies to—"

"May I?" interrupted Lieutenant Greene, who didn't wait for a response before speaking into the radio, "This is Connor. Where's the boss?"

This was the prearranged code for anyone bringing supplies, as all of them were expected to use the cover story that Greene had used. The reply was swift. "We ack—ledge you, Con— The boss—on the moon; what did y—pect?" This was more code: M'Quve wanted a report as soon as possible. At least, that's how the lieutenant remembered it.

"I figured," Greene answered. "I've got enough supplies to feed an army, and I'd prefer to get it offloaded as soon as possible. Also, what's the word on the Granada trip?"

"—on't bother," came the reply. "The boss is o—t."

Greene sighed in relief; he had not been looking forward to another twelve or so hours of cramped quarters and silent boredom. "Well, that's good news," he said. "How soon will you be able to rendezvous?"

"T—inutes."

"Repeat that, please."

"Two mi—"

"Acknowledged. I'll suit up immediately." Greene nodded to the pilot, who switched off the radio as the lieutenant rose from his seat and began to put on his bulky normal suit. While he did so, he watched as the approaching object's silhouette finally became fully visible: a _Komusai_, probably the same one that had lured the original civilian shuttle—_Envy_, if Greene remembered right—into Captain Char's trap. The reentry capsule had suddenly become a great deal more useful than its designers had imagined.

Greene finished sealing his helmet just as the ship pulled alongside the shuttle and activated its verniers to stop its momentum. The pilot gazed at the vessel for a long time before saying, "I have to wonder why you're using military hardware, Mr. Connor."

The lieutenant shrugged. "Zeon's not too cautious with some of its stuff. We bought this one from a Granada scrap yard. _Komusai_s being what they are, they weren't too useful to the military after Odessa."

The pilot nodded as the first normal suited crew from the other vessel began to float over to the _Eagle_. Greene was pleased that all of them were using the Federation's standard normal suits, probably borrowed from that _Salamis_ or the Trojan Horse; had they used their Zeon suits, which were far more recognizable, the lieutenant's lie about the _Komusai_'s origins would have become unbelievable. Making his way to the cockpit's airlock, Greene lowered his helmet visor and said to the shuttle's crew, "I'll be back after the unloading is completed to bid you farewell."

/**/

Colonel M'Quve gazed at the newly-recovered Lieutenant Greene as he asked, "How many weeks' worth of food have you brought?"

"I purchased enough to last another three weeks, at the very least, sir," replied the lieutenant, who stood at attention (as well as one can in a weightless environment) on the _Hummel_'s bridge. "If we stretch ourselves, we can make it last for twice that."

"There will be no need for such drastic measures," replied M'Quve, turning away to glance through the _Hummel_'s port-side bridge window. "You are not the only spy to return to us, and our supplies are becoming plentiful again. If this becomes a waiting game between us and Gihren, we will stand a real chance of success from this point onward." The colonel glanced back at the lieutenant. "But since Gihren's chances remain greater still, it would be very unfortunate if that were to be the case."

"Yes, sir," answered Greene, although he knew that no response was necessary.

M'Quve nodded nonetheless. "A military should not fight to exist. Rather, it should exist to fight. This is the philosophy that Zeon chose in its war against the Earth Federation: not to outwait the Federation's pressure, but rather to confront it. Now, we follow our nation's example against the usurper of its throne." The colonel turned away from Lieutenant Greene and floated for a moment in silent contemplation, before refocusing on his subordinate. "Good work, Lieutenant Greene. Get some rest while you are here; you'll return to the _Good Hope_ at 0700 hours to prepare for the upcoming practice maneuvers, so the more sleep you can get now, the better. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir," said Lieutenant Greene again, saluting sharply before turning toward the exit. M'Quve didn't bother to acknowledge the man, being too occupied with his thoughts regarding the continuation of the spying operation.

Von Braun, obviously, had been a profitable venture, at least in the short term. Even if flags went up all over the Earth Sphere over the disappearance of an entire shuttle's worth of people, the replenishment of M'Quve's supplies made up for it. Moreover, the colonel was certain that he could speed up the implementation of the next operation so that his people would infiltrate his next target long before the authorities took notice of the first operation. And M'Quve had decided to be far more ambitious with his next project: His people would be sent into Granada, the heart of Zeon's industrial war machine and the second most important bastion of the homeland's military defenses. The risk was dire, especially as Gihren would keep a much closer eye on Granada than on any other military site in the Earth Sphere due to Kycilia's influence there; but that same influence, and the memory of Kycilia's name, would be a great asset for M'Quve to exploit for his own purposes. Moreover, M'Quve had maintained a personal relationship with the war manufacturer Zimmand, and a well-placed spy in Granada had a better chance of making contact with the company than in any other place in the Earth Sphere. With Zimmand on his side, M'Quve would be sure to get some of Zeon's newest technology, including both warship and mobile suit advances. And with the Granada populace still angry at the loss of their governor, or at the very least irritated with the restrictions imposed by a distrustful Gihren, there was every chance that the colonel's movement might obtain new recruits as well as new machinery.

Colonel M'Quve's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outburst from the CIC: "Sir, there's a civilian shuttle approaching this location! It's broadcasting a laser signal identifying it as property of Anaheim Electronics—"

"Communication from the shuttle!" cried the communications officer. "It's in our code; Lieutenant Commander Torren, from the _Zumel_, returning from successful contact with Anaheim Electronics. He says he's bringing guests." The officer glanced over at the colonel. "Requesting permission to dock."

M'Quve's eyes narrowed at this. He had not wanted more than one newcomer, though he had known that he would likely have no luck in that regard. "Direct him to the _Good Hope_, and alert Captain Serak to fill his hangar with armed men," he ordered after a slight hesitation. "I want to greet our guests properly, and I would prefer that they remained in one place until I have the opportunity." Turning his attention to his executive officer, he added, "Have a launch readied for immediate departure."

"Absolutely, sir," replied the other officer as the colonel turned sharply toward the exit and floated out of the bridge, intent on learning just how much he would need to alter his plans for the future.

/**/

The _Good Hope_'s hangar was bustling as the Anaheim shuttle entered, but Torren quickly realized that most of the activity centered around the sudden entrance of armed guards, floating around the shuttle in normal suits and armed with rifles and, in at least three cases, bazookas for use in the event that the shuttle attempted to escape. The lieutenant commander's brow furrowed as he glanced across the cabin's center aisle at his fellow passengers, most of whom were glaring at him accusingly. Irene Alton, specifically, was already reaching into her purse, and Torren was reasonably sure that he would not appreciate anything she decided to retrieve from it when she felt threatened. "How do you justify this kind of aggression, Mr. Bichner?" she demanded with a glare.

Torren kept a wary eye on the security team around his companion as he answered, "We have good reason to be cautious. I might have given those codes under duress, or I might have been replaced by an imposter in order to take our group by surprise. Even if there were no doubt about my identity, Colonel M'Quve would still need to make sure that you are who you claim to be. He isn't simply going to take my word for it."

The security team glowered, already guessing that they would find Zeon's background checks much more troublesome than Alton, for whom Torren would vouch; he could do no such thing for men he had never met before stepping onto the Anaheim shuttle. Even their employer, though, seemed unwilling to cooperate. "I have to wonder just how Colonel M'Quve will go about doing that when he has no access to outside information channels."

The lieutenant commander shrugged. "I trust that he has his ways. It's not my place to ask."

"Then I'll be sure to ask in your stead," Alton promised with a glare. She clearly meant to say more, but even as she opened her mouth, the shuttle's main hatch opened with a hiss, and Torren was spared any more of the woman's irritation. Instead, she turned her attention to the armed men who came cautiously into the cabin, holding their weapons at the ready. "Who is in charge here? I want to talk to him about how he treats his guests."

The first of the armed men returned Alton's glare with one of his own. "Well, that's just perfect, since you're going to sit tight until the colonel gets to talk to you about all of these men you've decided to bring along with you." He glanced over at Torren, who was suddenly very happy that he had taken the time to change into his full uniform during the shuttle flight. "I'm afraid you'll be stuck here until then also, sir."

Torren nodded. "That will be fine. I figured as much."

"That will be fine as long as your colonel doesn't dawdle on his way over here," added Alton pointedly. "How long will we be waiting here?"

"As long as it takes," growled the soldier as he turned back to the woman.

No sooner had the man said this than an announcement from the bridge came over the hangar's PA system: "Hangar crew, prepare for incoming transport. Repeat, hangar crew, prepare for incoming transport. Seal all airlocks immediately."

Torren glanced at Alton as one of the soldiers turned back to the hatch and closed it. "I hope you're happy."

"I won't be happy until I have assurances that this trip was worth it, for me and for Anaheim," replied Alton as she crossed the center aisle to gaze out the starboard windows, ignoring the soldiers who waved their guns threateningly as she moved. "Meeting your colonel might just make me more irritated than I already am."

"That's your problem, isn't it?" Torren snapped, though he didn't bother to look up from the windows as the hangar began to open to admit the incoming launch. It took less than a minute for the transport to land, by which time the hangar door had already sealed. As the hangar began to pressurize once again, the lieutenant commander focused his attention on the launch, inspecting its exterior for a nameplate. "We'll find out soon enough, anyway," he murmured. "It's from the _Hummel_."

Alton narrowed her eyes as several more soldiers—officers, this time—disembarked from the newly-arrived launch, all but two of them aiming their weapons at the Anaheim shuttle as the others had done. These two returned their attention to the open hatch of the launch as Colonel M'Quve made his appearance, stepping out of the launch as he gazed at the shuttle before him with what appeared to be a grimace of distaste. It appeared that he had some idea of what awaited him in the person of Irene Alton, although Torren had no way of knowing if that inclination came from his message warning the colonel of Alton's escort or not. It was clear, no matter the reason, that M'Quve was not looking forward to this meeting… and considering Alton's equal distaste, the lieutenant commander could not help but become nervous at the prospect of the upcoming interview between them.

Perhaps the executive noticed Torren's sudden nervousness, as she turned her attention to him again. "Is there anything I should know about this 'Colonel M'Quve' before I speak with him?" she asked with a raised brow.

The lieutenant commander glanced over at Alton with a grimace. "Nothing that is going to help you any more than what you already know," he said. "Just try not to antagonize him."

Alton glared once again. "Perhaps you would be better served by warning him not to antagonize _me_."

Torren hesitated for half a moment before allowing his self-control to evaporate. "Look around you, Ms. Alton. In case you haven't noticed, this isn't Von Braun. You're under the colonel's control right now, so unless you want to purposely piss off the man who decides whether you live or die, you'll shut up and do as ordered from here on out. Do you understand me?"

Alton stared at Torren in surprise, but her gaze eventually hardened as she regained her confidence. "We are doing you and your people a favor by agreeing to come this far with you. If you and your colonel need a reminder of that fact, I'll be sure to provide one."

"Fine," snapped the lieutenant commander as he turned back to the window. "It's your funeral." Torren's anger dissipated, though, when he took in the view. "Wait, where did the colonel go?"

As if to answer the officer's question, the cabin hatch opened once more, and Torren turned sharply as the soldiers guarding Alton and her entourage went to attention immediately. He quickly joined them in saluting as Colonel M'Quve stepped into the cabin, glancing around at the luxurious seating arrangements with what appeared to be professional appreciation. When his gaze fell on the shuttle's passengers, however, his appreciation was replaced by distaste. Turning to the soldiers, he asked, "Which one is Torren?"

The lieutenant commander clicked his heels together to attract the colonel's attention. "Sir!"

M'Quve turned his gaze toward his subordinate for a short moment. "Good work," he said simply, before turning his attention to the woman who stood behind the lieutenant commander. "You are Anaheim's representative?"

Alton straightened somewhat under M'Quve's scrutiny. "I am," she answered. "You are Colonel M'Quve?"

"I am," the colonel echoed, floating forward until he reached out for the seat across the aisle from Torren, stopping his momentum as he narrowed his eyes at his new guest. Still ignoring the security team around him, he inspected Alton for a moment before commenting, "You are not at all what I expected."

"Should I be sorry?"

M'Quve's lips thinned. "With that attitude, perhaps you should be," he replied distastefully. "We're here to help one another, after all."

Alton nodded her head slightly at this. "So we are," she agreed, though her tone indicated that she would reserve judgment on just how helpful she believed M'Quve would be to her. "And we would like to begin immediately, if that's not too much trouble. We'll need your technical data as soon as possible. When will we have access to your vessels?"

"You'll have it as soon as it can be arranged," M'Quve assured the woman. "Obviously there will be some obstacles to any full inspection"—and Torren was fairly certain that any such 'obstacles' would never be cleared to the colonel's satisfaction; regardless of his promises to Anaheim, no commanding officer would willingly provide another party with knowledge or access to any or all of his vessels' weaknesses—"but the technical data to each vessel is naturally stored in that vessel's computers. You will have access to that data as soon as you are settled in your quarters, if you wish."

The Anaheim executive nodded again. "My men and I would appreciate that, Colonel," she replied grudgingly. "How soon will that be?"

"Very," M'Quve answered. "The _Good Hope_ will be your home until suitable quarters can be prepared on my _Hummel_. We were not expecting so many… 'guests,'" the colonel said with feigned diplomacy as he glanced over at the security men for the first time, though barely for a second before returning his attention to Alton as she frowned.

"You are not suggesting that I should have come to you alone. I am not in the habit of placing myself at the mercy of an unknown entity on a moment's notice, Colonel. Like you, I take precautions."

M'Quve tilted his head. "Of course," he acknowledged. "No doubt they will all become a valuable addition to our company here." Glancing back at the soldiers behind him, he ordered, "Send word to Captain Serak to prepare for ten extra bodies, including a VIP." As one of the men saluted before heading to the cabin to commandeer the communications system to fulfill the colonel's orders, M'Quve turned his attention again to Lieutenant Commander Torren. "You're dismissed. Rest up while you can, then get back to your ship by 0800 tomorrow. Find a crew roster to be sure that you weren't part of the crew exchange we put together while you were away."

Torren saluted, though the notion of a crew exchange confused him somewhat. "Yes, sir," he replied, stepping into the aisle and floating to the hatch as soon as he received M'Quve's nod.

Before he left the shuttle completely, though, the lieutenant commander overheard Alton remark, "I certainly hope that all of your men aren't as reckless as that one is, Colonel, or your operation here won't last very long at all."

'And there goes any hope of a promotion,' Torren thought sourly as he floated through the shuttle hatch and into the hangar.

/**/

_One final note: The "Zeon green and yellow" flags I referenced come from_ Gundam ZZ, _specifically episode 25, "Rommel's Face." The flag is hanging on the back wall of Rommel's desert headquarters. I have never understood why Sunrise insisted on playing up the Nazi analogy to the point that everything from the "new" Zeon flag to the quality of propaganda video in_ MS IGLOO _has to look like it came from the Nazi party. The original series had already made the point pretty clear with uniform design and coloration; there was no reason to go overboard, in my opinion. So I have retained the older flag design, which to the best of my knowledge only appeared that one time. As the flag will not have any special importance to this story, of course, you can imagine the Nazi red, white, and black if you prefer it._

_I will be posting another update within the next few days. Again, I am sorry for the long delay, and am even sorrier for the hiatus that will follow when these already-written chapters are published. I do hope to get back to this story in the future, but I cannot promise anything at this time._


	10. More Plots and Plans

_Hmm… It has already been more than three weeks since I last claimed that I would update the rest of my already-finished portions of this story, and yet I still have not managed to do that. Here is another chapter, then; hopefully this will be good enough for the wait._

_Pointless Disclaimer: If I can't submit simple projects within vague self-imposed deadlines, how am I supposed to own a multi-million dollar company? I still don't own Gundam._

/**/

Char narrowed his eyes behind his mask as he blasted forward, rolling his Gelgoog as incoming fire from a rival Rick Dom flew through the space he had occupied only a moment before. The offending mobile suit was quickly vanquished as Char's faux beam rifle fired a round of paint into the Rick Dom's mono-eye, before rushing past. In front of him, the vacuum of space was lit up by the blinding lights of tracers, rockets, and mobile suits, as the pace of the 'battle' began to pick up. The various vessels of M'Quve's flotilla had squared off against one another, with the _Hummel_ in command of one group while the _Zanzibar_ commanded the other. As the _Zanzibar_ was the home of the most advanced mobile units in the group, M'Quve had decided, in the interest of "fairness," to place it at a numerical disadvantage. Five ships, including the _Hummel_, were to fight under the colonel's command; Char, however, had the use of only three.

Even so, Char was certain of success. He had positioned his mobile suit forces to defend his three vessels, the _Zanzibar_, _Drumel_, and _Argos_, and fully expected the majority of his suits to survive the simulation without letting a single ship fall. Moreover, he had decided to repeat the test that he and Lalah had undertaken at Solomon, and had positioned the Elmeth accordingly. He knew that he had no need to send his suits against the enemy vessels when the Elmeth's bits could operate in their stead, and he was fairly certain that the guard he had assigned to defend the Elmeth would keep Lalah out of harm's way. As displeased as he was about the relationship between his ensign and Amuro Ray, Char could take comfort in the fact that it made the Gundam even more reliable in combat on Lalah's behalf.

It was his sister, Artesia, who worried Char the most. As he brought his Gelgoog back to engage with a Rick Dom that had used a piece of colony debris to sneak up to the _Argos_, the captain glanced in the direction of the _Hummel_, where he could see the lights of a spirited firefight underway. The Corebooster was a remarkable piece of technology, and it had proven itself against some of Zeon's best—the Black Tri-Stars came to mind. But in the end, it was still a fighter, and it had a fighter's limitations. It could not maneuver without expending propellant, and the exhaustion of its propellant supply would leave it sailing in whatever direction it had last turned, most likely to be lost. Moreover—and more importantly, at least regarding these maneuvers—the Corebooster was not meant as a defensive weapon, and could not be used in that capacity without severely handicapping the pilot. Including the Corebooster in his plan would have made Artesia practically useless in the battle, and Char knew that she would never have agreed to it. He had therefore reluctantly agreed to allow the Corebooster to fight offensively, although without mobile suit support such a mission was practically a suicide run.

Considering the amount of fire that was being let off by the _Hummel_'s defenders, apparently Char would need to reevaluate the usefulness of his sister's machine. Clearly it was more dangerous than it first appeared.

The captain boosted forward as one of the _Argos_'s GMs, all of which had been transferred to the _Good Hope_, appeared from behind a piece of colony debris and fired on its former mothership. Char took the hit on his shield, before firing a shot of his own at the GM. The offending mobile suit disappeared again, but a wingman appeared from behind a different piece of debris, and Char shot to the right before he could be hit. A swift redirection brought his Gelgoog around the debris behind which the first GM had hidden, and Char was greeted with the sight of five suits waiting for him; clearly the GM had been the bait in a well-laid trap. The masked man allowed himself to smirk just before he dodged a round from a Rick Dom's bazooka. This was getting interesting.

This thought had no sooner crossed the captain's mind before the GM and two of the Rick Doms were taken out by fire from 'above.' Char took advantage of the other Rick Doms' surprise and fired two quick shots to defeat them, before boosting forward to avoid fire from the other GM, which was now behind him. In his place, two streaks raced toward the 'enemy' suit, covering it in paint before rocketing toward the _Drumel_. Char recognized them as suits from the _Zanzibar_: Lieutenant Ramcha's Rick Dom leading Ensign Heidfeld's GM. Char noted how Heidfeld followed her superior's lead almost perfectly; the lieutenant's patience, it seemed, was finally paying off.

Before he could take too much time to admire Ramcha's training ability, however, Char glanced toward the _Zanzibar_, which he had situated at the _Argos_'s rear, and immediately felt his good mood disappear. The _Zanzibar_ had been kept away from the main line for a reason: Char had hidden the Elmeth behind it, and he had wanted no opportunity for M'Quve's people to take out his ship-killer. The floating 'corpses' of several unfortunate Rick Doms surrounding the _Zanzibar_ attested to its defenders' abilities to keep their opponents at bay, but at least one of the suits must have warned M'Quve or his subordinates that there was something worth hunting in the area, as two ships were converging on it. One was simply a _Musai_, most likely the _Limel_ from the little that Char could see. But the other was the indomitable Trojan Horse, and the masked man could only stare as the white vessel let loose with its main cannons at the _Zanzibar_. There was no possible means of evasion, and even as Char accelerated forward, he saw the paint splatter over his vessel's hull in several critical areas. The Elmeth's main defense had been 'destroyed'; it was only a matter of time before Lalah was taken out of the simulation.

Even as he raced forward, however, Char noted the reaction of the _Argos_, which quickly reoriented its own cannons in the direction of the _Limel_ and fired. Although the _Salamis_-class was not within accurate firing range of its target, Captain Hazen was already in the process of rectifying that problem, as the _Argos_'s engines ignited to turn the ship around. Char's Gelgoog quickly got out of the way of the ship's second volley, which went wide like the first, and looked on as the _Musai_-class vessel responded by redirecting its attention to the _Argos_ and firing its own cannons. Char couldn't help but smirk. "At first I thought you were being wasteful, Hazen, but I see what you've done now. If they're facing you, they're not facing Lalah."

Just as the _Limel_ had been distracted from the Elmeth, the _Argos_'s shots had also distracted the ship from Char's Gelgoog, which was quickly approaching. By the time the bridge crew had located him, it was far too late to call for reinforcement suits, and Char quickly covered the bridge windows with paint streaks before finishing the vessel off by taking out the engines.

Although the _Limel_ had been eliminated, however, it had managed to call for reinforcements before it had been taken out, and Char saw the tell-tale glow of thruster flares in the distance, growing closer by the second. There weren't many left, but on the same token, Char had fewer still, and he knew that they would be very difficult to defeat if they managed to link up with the _White Base_. The question, though, was whether or not it was wiser to intercept the suits than to eliminate the ship, or instead take out the ship before the suits reached the Elmeth's position. Char hesitated for only a moment, before the cannons of the _White Base_ fired upon the _Argos_; by luck or better technology, the paint shells hit home, and the _Salamis_-class was eliminated alongside the _Zanzibar_. Char was left with only one ship, and he knew that the Trojan Horse's continued survival would put the _Drumel_ at too great a risk to accept.

The second that the Gelgoog's mono-eye focused on the former Federation ship, however, Char felt the sudden instinctive need to move out of the way, and followed his subconscious advice. The paint pellets that were meant for him therefore passed harmlessly by, and the captain was able to reorient himself in order to face one of the _White Base_'s Guncannon suits—C-108. The two red suits seemed to stare at one another for a moment, before Char's opponent jerked on his controls and boosted to Char's right, bringing his weapon to bear again. The captain rushed forward to engage his foe before the Guncannon could get a lock on him, firing his own weapon to force the other suit into maneuvers. The Guncannon recovered, however, and Char grimaced as it took another shot, this time with its shoulder-mounted cannons; the Gelgoog easily evaded the attack, but Char could only imagine what destructive power was housed in those weapons. The captain passed by the Guncannon and turned as quickly as possible to hit it in the back, but the other suit boosted away the moment that Char passed by it, and the masked man scowled as he accelerated after the errant suit before it could take aim at him from afar.

It was at this point that Char saw the Gundam for the first time since it had launched from the _Zanzibar_'s hangar, flitting around the _Zanzibar_'s 'corpse' as it contended with the other Guncannon. No doubt it was awkward for both of the combatants, Char thought, but he was pleased to see that Amuro Ray was giving his opponent no quarter, nor was the other machine showing him any mercy. The captain quickly returned his attention to his own battle, but it seemed that the C-108 was equally interested in the other Guncannon's plight, and had turned in that direction as well; Char immediately decided that he would not allow the Gundam to fight two opponents on its own, and continued his pursuit. Even as he did so, however, Char suddenly felt as though something was wrong, and glanced in his rear-view monitor just long enough to see the _White Base_ move past the area of the Guncannons' battle—toward the _Drumel_.

Snarling at his distraction, Char didn't dare to turn around and lose focus on the Guncannon he was pursuing, which would easily use the opportunity to hit Char from behind. Instead, he activated his radio and hoped that the Elmeth was still in range. "Lalah, can you hear me? I need you to take out the Trojan Horse right now! Do you copy?"

"Sir—hear you. I'm taking it—_damn_—"

Char had been surprised by the strength of the radio signal, considering the density of the Minovsky field in the battle zone, but it took only a moment for him to see why: The Elmeth was right in front of him, and the Guncannon had seen it first. Taking his focus off of the Gelgoog for a single moment, the Guncannon's pilot took his first opportunity and splattered the mobile armor with paint, taking Char's best hope for victory out of the fight. Char quickly retaliated, using the Guncannon's distraction to put a round into the cockpit, but as far as M'Quve's side was concerned, the sacrifice had been worth it. Furious at this, Char turned again to intercept the _White Base_ on his own—and once again he was interrupted, this time by the mobile suits that he had seen incoming only moments ago. They were Rick Doms, numbering three, and although Char knew that he would have little trouble with them, they were just one more distraction that he could not afford to waste time against.

He ignited the Gelgoog's thrusters, moving the suit to the left before firing off a round into the face of his nearest opponent. Blinded, the Rick Dom backed off for a moment, but the other two covered it while its pilot activated the secondary cameras and reoriented himself. These two didn't fare any better, of course, but they wasted precious minutes of Char's time, and by the time he had disposed of them, the third was once more giving him trouble. Char circled around his opponent and fired, but the Rick Dom managed to get out of the way just in time and boosted off to the captain's right. Char gritted his teeth at being made to pursue yet another 'enemy'—he didn't dare to leave an opponent at his back, after all—but before he could do so, the Rick Dom suddenly jerked as it was struck from behind with three rounds, before floating away. Char immediately turned toward the source of the shots, to see the Gundam going past him toward the _White Base_ at full speed; Amuro, it seemed, was just as aware of the danger the Trojan Horse posed as Char was. The captain grinned as he turned his Gelgoog to follow the white suit in pursuit of the 'enemy' ship. Even if the Gundam failed at bringing down the vessel, the masked man thought, it would at least be amusing to see the two pitted against one another.

/**/

The _Zanzibar_'s hangar was flooded with mechanics as its suits returned, and the radio was filled with cheers as the Gelgoog made its landing. The Elmeth was next, which brought another cheer from the crew—Lalah had been responsible for the 'sinking' of two enemy vessels, including the _Good Hope_, which had been a prized kill. Char grinned as the Gundam landed next; while Amuro did not get as much praise as his predecessors, there was no doubt that the crew was pleased with his performance, and the defeat of the fabled _White Base_ would probably make him very popular amongst his fellow pilots. Lieutenant Ramcha and Ensign Heidfeld landed next, to little acclaim comparatively, as the ensign had been shot down over the _Drumel_ while the lieutenant had spent the rest of the battle without the use of his left arm; according to the radio chatter, the mechanics were already betting on whether or not the rookie ensign had panicked and hit her commander by mistake when the enemy had come to defeat her. To her credit, though, Char noted that her landing was much better this time than it had been only weeks before, and it was only a moment after Ramcha's suit was secured in its berth that the GM powered down in its own—the _Zanzibar_'s overcrowding problem had been partially fixed when Char had sent Ensign Bard to the _Zumel_.

Then, finally, the Corebooster made its landing, and was immediately set upon by the mechanics in an effort to secure it to anything that would keep it from floating around in the hangar. Immediately after the coolant was sprayed, the mechanics also set about cleaning the thing; Jenna Heidfeld had not been the only one to suffer defeat during the simulation, and the fighter was literally covered with paint. Still, the watching crewmembers started cheering the minute Artesia opened the hatch, and for good reason: She had taken the _Hummel_ with her. Char's grin widened as he wondered how humiliated M'Quve felt at the fact that he had been defeated by no more than a glorified fighter, and as he opened his cockpit hatch and floated out of his suit he couldn't help but laugh aloud—though obviously no one could hear him. Reaching the observation deck, the captain stopped his momentum and turned back to view the hangar with pride. This crew and these suits were his to command, and they had proven themselves capable of victory; and although his ship had suffered simulated destruction, it had served its purpose in Char's plan and could not be criticized for it. For one of the few times in his life, Char Aznable was content.

Then he saw Amuro Ray motioning for the nearby technicians, and his heart sank as he felt the Newtype's frustration. "What now?" he said to himself.

As the hangar began to fill with air, Char kicked off from the observation deck and floated toward the Gundam, where the former Federation ensign was discussing the problem, whatever it was, with one of the mechanics that had responded to his summons. Once the hangar was fully pressurized, Char took off his helmet and floated closer to the pilot as he pointed to the right elbow joint and retracted his helmet visor. "It's reacting too slowly. I don't know if it's damaged, or if it's just worn out. But we can't go into combat with it like this."

"Is it just that joint?" asked the mechanic, moving forward to inspect the elbow in question.

"The elbow is the worst of it, but it's not the only problem," replied Amuro. "I think the entire suit needs an overhaul, but since that's not realistic, working on the joints will have to do."

"So the famed Gundam is not as invincible as it seems," Char muttered, causing Amuro to turn in surprise. "Didn't take it long to start showing its weaknesses, though. The suit's only been in operation for… what, three-and-a-half months?"

"It's seen a lot of use, sir," Amuro said in the Gundam's defense. "Remember, the person usually shooting at it was you. It was bound to break at some point."

Char snorted. "Is that flattery, Ensign?" he said. "I suppose it's an excuse I'm willing to take." His eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Can you fight with this problem?"

Amuro sighed. "Yes, sir, I can. But the more we use it, the more likely it is that it will tear apart under the strain."

"Under the strain of what? Your reactions?" Char studied the Gundam's pilot for a moment before saying, "I don't know how to solve this problem. To do it properly, you'd need the resources of a government-funded military, and at the moment we don't have them—although our new contacts at Anaheim might help us there, if we're lucky. For right now, I'm keeping you in this suit, since we don't exactly have any spares and, other than my Gelgoog, you'd be stuck in an inferior model that will only give you the same trouble. That said…" Char paused for a moment in thought, before turning toward the Elmeth. "Mr. Cartwright! Would you come here, please?"

"Right away, sir!" came the reply. Almost immediately, one of the technicians that had been servicing Lalah's mobile armor kicked off and floated toward the captain. "Do you need me, sir?"

Char motioned toward Amuro. "Mr. Cartwright, meet Ensign Amuro Ray. Amuro, this is Jeremy Cartwright of the Flanagan Institute in Side 6. Mr. Cartwright worked with Dr. Flanagan in his research into Newtype phenomena; the Elmeth is one of the products of that research." Cartwright nodded to Amuro, but Char took his attention again as he said, "Mr. Cartwright, I would like to begin testing the Braw Bro."

Cartwright's brow rose. "Do you mean with this young man as the pilot?" he asked. "Is he a Newtype?"

Char nodded. "I want to begin to fine-tune the Braw Bro for Ensign Amuro's use as soon as possible. As I've just learned, the Gundam is not as invincible as it at first appeared."

"Sir?" asked Amuro, confused.

"The Elmeth is not the only Newtype-use weapon the Institute put out," Char explained. "Mr. Cartwright was kind enough to bring us the Braw Bro during our stay in Side 6, but we've had no reason to bring it out of the cargo hold—as you've undoubtedly noticed, we're already short on room here. Nonetheless, while I still want the Gundam in combat, I think it would be best to start testing the Braw Bro to determine if we can use it if your mobile suit fails completely."

Amuro did not look convinced, but Mr. Cartwright was suddenly grinning. "This will be a wonderful opportunity for more data. We've always had classroom data from our students, of course, but we've never seen any data from Newtypes in combat other than Lalah's, and my colleagues and I have wondered for a long time whether or not that data was the exception or the rule."

"Well, you're soon to find out, Mr. Cartwright," replied Char with a smile. "I'm afraid I can't say the same thing for your colleagues, however."

Cartwright waved it off. "As long as I record the data, sir, I'll get it to them eventually."

"Sir," Amuro began, "I'm not sure that I'll be able to make a Newtype-use weapon move, let alone operate proficiently."

The captain turned back to his ensign. "That's why we're testing, Amuro. I want to make sure that you can, now rather than later if at all possible." Turning his gaze back to the stricken Gundam, he added, "In the meantime, the mechanics will have to see what they can do for your reaction problem. Hopefully we're worrying over nothing."

Amuro nodded, but he was frowning as he said, "I hope so too, sir."

/**/

Lieutenant Commander Dav Crestler was still shaking off his confusion as he arrived outside Captain Char Aznable's quarters on board the _Zanzibar_, having been summoned over the PA system a few minutes before. Knocking on the door, he announced, "Lieutenant Commander Dav Crestler, reporting as ordered, sir."

"Enter," replied Captain Char's voice; the lieutenant commander immediately opened the door and floated inside. He found his masked superior sitting at a desk, frowning in contemplation while he faced the wall behind it. He turned his face toward his visitor for a second, before returning his attention to the wall. "Close the door, Crestler."

The lieutenant commander did as he was ordered, at which point Char put aside whatever work he had in front of him and stood. Turning to his subordinate, the captain smiled. "Lieutenant Commander Crestler, you were recently assigned to the upcoming operation to infiltrate the Zeon homeland in Side 3, were you not?"

"Yes, sir," Crestler replied. It was another thing he had been surprised about, considering that he had no experience in gathering military intelligence. While he understood that his superiors had very few options in terms of specialized manpower, the officer was fairly certain that they were not as desperate as his assignment would make them seem.

Captain Char nodded. "Good, you were made aware of it. I couldn't be sure that your inclusion had been properly dealt with; you were a last-minute addition to the roster, after all."

The lieutenant commander frowned. "Sir?"

Char chose not to elaborate, but instead moved on to a seemingly unrelated topic. "I know this will seem… strange, but please bear with me. Do you have family?"

Crestler blinked. "Uh, yes, sir," he said. "Just my father; he lives in Zum City."

"If I'm not much mistaken, your father was very political in his early years, correct?"

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant commander answered, as he began to sweat nervously. He would have preferred not to volunteer anything more, but when Char motioned for him to continue, Crestler knew he had no choice. "My father was one of Zeon Zum Deikun's followers. He disagreed with Sovereign Degwin on many issues."

"In fact, you were lucky to escape scrutiny after your father went into hiding," the captain added. He leaned forward. "Part of the reason you enlisted was to avoid suspicion, right?"

Crestler paled. "Sir, may I ask what you called me here for?"

"You may not. Now, Lieutenant Commander, if you were asked where your father is now, by me or by Gihren Zabi's secret police, what would you answer?"

The officer swallowed. "Sir, I can't say."

"Why not?"

There was a pause as Crestler sought an appropriate excuse. In the end, he couldn't find one, and was forced to settle for the truth instead. "He's my father, sir. Maybe I'd crack under torture, but I can't just give him up."

Char frowned. "What about his friends? If you were asked where to find some of Gihren's political enemies now, would you give _them_ up instead?"

The lieutenant commander clenched his fists as he fought to remain calm in the face of his superior's scrutiny. He had no idea what this questioning was about, but considering the answers that had been dug out of him already he was certain that nothing good would come out of it. "I think it would be the same, sir. However," he added hastily, "I don't know many of my father's associates personally, so asking me would be a waste of time."

"Of course, of course," Char murmured, continuing to gaze at the lieutenant commander—at least, as far as Crestler could tell. After a moment of silence, the captain finally said, "Lieutenant Commander Crestler, what would you say if I told you that I know precisely where your father and his associates are, and that you are wasting your time by hiding those locations from me?"

Crestler blinked, before shaking his head. "I would say that you're bluffing, sir." Considering that even the lieutenant commander was unsure of their locations, he could hardly credit Char's statement. The captain, though, was not fazed by Crestler's denial.

"In this case, I'm not, but you can believe what you want." Char came forward and laid a hand on the lieutenant commander's shoulder. "Earlier you asked why I brought you in here. I will tell you, but only if you make me a promise. You told me that, if you were questioned under torture, you might give up your father. But to learn the information I want to give you, you must promise me that no amount of provocation—torture or otherwise—will make you tell anyone else what I am about to tell you. Can you promise me that, Lieutenant Commander Crestler?"

The officer stared at Captain Char in confusion. What did this sudden shift in topic mean? "Sir?"

"Will you promise me, Lieutenant Commander, or will I have to dismiss you right now?"

Crestler swallowed again. Briefly wondering just how much he was going to regret his decision, he nodded. "Yes, sir. I promise not to divulge what you will tell me."

Char smiled at this. "Thank you, Crestler." He let the other officer's shoulder go as he floated to the door to his quarters, which he opened to scan the corridor outside. Apparently satisfied that there were no eavesdroppers, the captain closed the door again and turned to his guest. "Your father went into hiding rather than reject Zeon Deikun. Normally I wouldn't dare to take that at face value, but at the moment I'm… I think 'desperate' is not too strong a word for it. I'm desperate enough to risk an assumption that could backfire tremendously if I'm wrong." The masked man floated toward his desk once again. "Could you tell me what you know of your father's political leanings? Does he follow Zeon's ideals, or his memory?"

The lieutenant commander frowned. "I can't say, sir. He's said wonderful things about Zeon the man, but a lot of those things were about what Zeon believed. Maybe both?"

"You're not being very helpful, but I'll take your word for it," Char stated irritably. Reaching his desk, he picked up an envelope, which he held up for Crestler to see. "I need to know whether or not your father will support another Deikun, Crestler. Since he can't bring Zeon back, will he settle for Casval instead?"

Crestler stared at the captain. "Sir, I'm not sure I follow you."

Char nodded. "Remember, you cannot tell _anyone_ what I am about to tell you." Crestler nodded once again, and the captain continued. "Char Aznable is not my real name. I took this alias so that I could return to the Principality of Zeon to attend the military academy without fear of assassination. My real name is Casval Rem Deikun."

Crestler added an open mouth to his stare. After a long moment, he managed to collect himself to ask, "Are you really the son of Zeon, sir?"

"Yes," Char answered shortly. "Now listen carefully. As you've probably noticed by now, there is some tension between Colonel M'Quve and me, regarding the command of our little flotilla. I have some support, but almost all of it requires me to be Char Aznable, and I don't plan to keep this alias forever. When I reveal myself as Casval Rem Deikun, I need to know that I won't be killed outright by the Zabi loyalists, or even M'Quve's followers once they realize that I've lost Lady Zenna's backing. To that end, I want you to deliver a message to your father and his associates when you take part in the upcoming spy operation. If we defeat Gihren Zabi and take power in Zum City, I need to know whether or not I will be free to remove the last traces of the Zabi family from power. I will need your faction's support."

Crestler continued to stare, but he managed to close his mouth and make a shaky salute. "I don't know what Father will say, sir, but I'll give him your message. I think he'll be happy to receive it."

Captain Char—no, Casval Rem Deikun—smiled at his subordinate as he held out the envelope in his hand. "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. I'm very grateful."

/**/

Gihren Zabi sipped his wine as he gazed out through the window of his new study at the curving skyline of Zum City, pondering the reaction of the public to the previous day's ceremony. Most likely, he thought, the people really didn't care. While yesterday's events had seen Gihren acclaimed sovereign by the Zeon parliament, the eldest son of Degwin had been supreme commander of the military since before the war began, and as soon as the beams had started flying, the military had practically become the government of Zeon. Even what power Degwin had held as Zeon's sovereign had fallen into Gihren's hands after his father stepped out of public life in the aftermath of Garma's death. Parliament's announcement of Gihren's ascension simply put the rubber stamp to Gihren's rule; that and the conspicuous absence of all of Gihren's siblings to contest it.

So paperwork and legality now mirrored reality. But rather than view that fact in a positive light, Gihren scowled as he remembered the previous day's events. It was a farce, after all; the civilian government had not held real power in Zeon since the days when Zeon Zum Deikun was its self-appointed prime minister—not that he had been any less of a dictator than Gihren was, considering that Deikun and his party, including Degwin Soto Zabi, had not bothered with elections when they seized power from the Federation, and had depended on a vocal political minority within the Side 3 population for support. The parliament of Deikun's day had been filled with members of his own circle, and had agreed to whatever their leader decided was necessary; but unlike the parliament that existed under the Zabi family, Deikun and his parliament had never come across an issue in which they were not already in agreement. Degwin's ascension had created a massive rift between the "prime minister" and his parliament, which in any other government would have meant a vote of no confidence in Degwin's leadership. Fortunately for Degwin and his heirs, Zeon's government was more or less unfamiliar with standard legal procedures. Its members were revolutionaries rather than legislators; the methods they used to combat the hostile takeover were the same that they had used to achieve one. When Degwin won the resulting conflict, most of Deikun's former power base lay dead in the streets, including most members of parliament. Like Deikun before him, Degwin had filled the empty spaces with friendly voices, but even these people were only kept in line by the threat of force. The Zabi leadership could not afford to base its legitimacy on a government that did not trust it, and Zeon could not afford to suffer divisions at the top when the Federation posed a constant and undeniable threat to its existence. In short, Degwin needed to rule without his parliament, so that it could never rise against him again.

For that reason, Degwin turned his attention to centralizing the military. While Zeon Zum Deikun had recognized the need for a national army—especially with Federation garrisons still patrolling the streets as though they were actually in charge—he had been unable to organize a true military force before his death. The only real wartime experience that Zeon could claim was accumulated during the conflict it had fought against itself, and as the winners of that conflict Degwin and his people had far more experience to speak of than their (mostly dead) opponents. Degwin turned this to his advantage by taking over the development of Zeon's military using his authority as prime minister, ensuring that his control over the project was total by squeezing emergency powers out of a parliament that was too tired of war to fight him over it; only afterward did the government realize its mistake. While Degwin's so-called power base had been planted into the government already, Degwin had saved his real friends for military posts, and used his authority as prime minister to prop up these new positions until the populace recognized them as legitimate authority figures. And as soon as that time came, Degwin drew on his subordinates' new-found authority to reform the government completely, stepping away from the civilian-run parliament to lead Zeon with a wholly-supportive military at his back. The parliament was not stupid enough to allow this without resistance, but neither could its members actually act against the Zabi faction without the aforementioned military coming down upon their heads. The civilian government was made redundant almost overnight.

But even as the sovereign of a military state, Degwin had found it necessary to keep the parliament intact. While he distrusted the civilian arm of government immensely, Zeon's leader had also believed that the people would not accept his rule without parliament's existence, and so Degwin had done his best to keep his faction's disagreements with the rest of the government out of the public view. Over the years, Degwin had even managed to repair his relations with parliament, to an extent; as long as the government recognized his authority to rule as he wished, the sovereign had been willing to listen to parliament's advice, and he'd even become friendly with some of the prime ministers that served after him, including the current government leader, Darcia Bakharov. But that repaired relationship did not extend to Gihren, who had risen to the post of supreme commander of the military under his father's rule, and whose views of the Zabi dictatorship differed from Degwin's in that his ambition, not simply for himself but for the whole of Zeon, required a degree of centralized power that the continued existence of parliament could not allow.

Unfortunately, Gihren knew that his father's ascension to the position of "Great Sovereign" had been the best opportunity to remove the Zeon parliament, the last vestiges of the nation's weakness, completely. In the clamor regarding the rise of military rule, the dissolution of parliament would have been an insignificant detail that would hardly have been noticed by the populace. Instead, Degwin chose to be cautious and retain the services of the civilian leadership, so that the people had become used to parliament's continued existence in the framework that Degwin set up. _Now_ if Gihren were to attempt to remove parliament, he would set off the same amount of furor that his father's original reforms already had—amongst a populace that was already suspicious of Kycilia's death and Degwin's disappearance, and was still reeling from the war that Zeon had just barely won. As much as he hated the thought of bowing to civilian leadership, Gihren knew that, at least ceremonially, he had no choice but to accept the parliament's place in Zeon's government. For now.

But even if he forced himself to accept the parliament's continued existence, Gihren could not allow it to exist in its current form. Many members of parliament had served since Degwin had installed them in the government more than a decade before, and some political survivors had even been present in Zeon's original parliament before the civil war cut his faction to ribbons. Only a few of them had ever supported the Zabi dictatorship, and many of those had only done so because they were grateful to Degwin for sparing them upon his rise to power. What little support the office of sovereign had in parliament was the result of Degwin's healing relationship with parliament and its members, most notably Prime Minister Bakharov. With Degwin dead, Gihren knew that the people's suspicions fell directly on him—thus, not only would the members of parliament have no reason to trust him, but they would be backed up by their displeased constituents as well. If the parliament could not be removed, therefore, at the very least it _had_ to be replaced, if Zeon was to be saved from future unrest.

Yet the parliament was hardly the only possible cause of divided loyalties. Turning away from the view of his window, Gihren made his way back to his desk, glowering over the report that lay on it. According to his direct subordinates, including the ever-willing Admiral Delaz, Gihren's purge was well on track to remove half of the Zeon home guard—most of which could be chalked up to the complete disembowelment of the garrison at Granada, which had been totally replaced with new recruits led by men that had proven themselves to be loyal to their former supreme commander. Delaz's report carefully avoided mentioning that such a drain on the military's resources could not have come at a worse time, considering that the war had already brought the military to the brink of devastation; the admiral knew that Gihren was already aware of the situation, and would not want to be reminded of it. Therefore, Delaz saved his words for more unforeseen matters, such as problems encountered by Gihren's secret service that had been caused by a completely forgotten element: Deikun loyalists. Gihren had personally believed any loyalty to the old regime to be dead, or at least buried too deep to revive, and had been most displeased to learn that his father's old enemies had resurfaced long after they had first been beaten into submission. Apparently their attempts at lying low had been uncovered by the secret service as they attempted to root out the remains of Kycilia's faction, leading to multiple clashes between all three groups. In some more worrying cases, men loyal to Kycilia had chosen to make common cause with those that remained tied to Zeon Deikun, expanding a resistance that Gihren hadn't even been aware of.

To learn that men of Zeon were so willing to cling to a past that would never return infuriated Gihren, who spent so much of his time looking forward to a future that came closer with every passing minute. The strength of the nation was supposed to be its single, unified vision of the coming Spacenoid era; yet Deikun's days as prime minister were some of Zeon's weakest. And if certain people were unwilling to see the future as Gihren saw it—a future in which a strong Zeon ruled the Earth Sphere as the champion of the Spacenoids, and proclaimed an end to the tyranny of the so-called "Earth-born Elite"—they had to be eliminated before their lack of vision weakened the very foundation of the Principality.

To that end, Gihren was willing to dispose of as much as eighty percent of the Zeon military, if it meant that he could be free of Kycilia's, or even Zeon Deikun's, influence. And while Delaz's report assured the sovereign that he would not have to waste quite so many resources, its conclusions regarding Kycilia's followers hiding among Deikun loyalists only served to remind Gihren of Casval Rem Deikun and Kycilia's lackey M'Quve, neither of whom had been located. Delaz, of course, had no knowledge of Casval's continued existence, and Gihren would prefer that to remain the case. Even so, the admiral was well aware of the dangers posed by the famed Red Comet, and M'Quve had proven to be shrewd enough to warrant Kycilia's attention, which had automatically given Delaz reason to be cautious of his ability. Gihren knew that his subordinate was taking no chances. There was no other explanation for the number of seemingly mundane topics that had found their way into the admiral's report: a single mysterious fire in a government warehouse in Granada, suspected pirate activity in the L4 shoal zone that could be something more dangerous, unidentified shuttles that had made their way to Earth without government clearance, a list of missing notables that had arrived in Von Braun on the same flight…

If Delaz could find no better leads than those, Gihren knew better than to ask for more. He had personally inspected the known facts behind each of these happenings, and from them had decided that the least likely scenario was the most likely to be hiding something more important from its investigators. Not often did a group of people that had been on the same shuttle all disappear _after_ that shuttle had already landed, unless (as Gihren suspected) the people concerned were already missing at the time of their supposed arrival at the lunar city. The sovereign had already sent his investigators to Von Braun to scrutinize further; the shuttle, the pilots, the military officer attached to the flight, and any known contacts of the passengers were all to be investigated as thoroughly as possible, as well as the space surrounding the shuttle's flight path. Gihren frowned even more deeply as he considered the amount of space that might actually be, but he was less worried about the flight path and more concerned about the prime hiding spot that lay within a few hours from it: the remains of Side 5 at L1.

Fortunately for Gihren's fast-approaching migraine, the patrol he had sent in that direction had already earned its stripes in Zeon's hardest fought battle, suffering the onslaught of the Federation at Solomon and coming out alive. If M'Quve and Char Aznable were hiding at L1, they would be found. And the ensuing hunt would be swift and decisive.

/**/

Lieutenant Erden kept his eyes open warily as he walked through the not-so-crowded streets of Granada, knowing that his very presence in public spaces was bound to draw unwelcome attention from Gihren's secret police. Of course, he knew better than to appear nervous, and only his clenched fist, clutching his briefcase handle, gave away his worry. It was hard not to let his eyes dart around the street, though, since Erden hadn't seen it so empty of traffic since the opening days of the war, when Granada was freshly captured. In effect, Gihren's seizure of power had captured the city for a second time, and the reaction of the populous was understandably similar to that following Lady Kycilia's arrival more than twelve months before. But all the same, Kycilia's death and the associated changes had occurred several weeks ago, and any resident of the city would have become used to the silence on the streets; Erden could not pass for such a resident if he became noticeably nervous about it.

Despite that, Erden was a Zeon officer, and had been trained from the beginning to resist cracking under pressure. He had no doubt that others could have done a better job of it than he was, but the lieutenant knew without a doubt that he could pass anyone's scrutiny if he had to; if he couldn't, after all, Colonel M'Quve would never have chosen him to be his messenger in Granada. It was a vote of confidence that Erden accepted with pride, and as he continued down the empty streets, he took comfort in the fact that his commander vouched for his reliability.

It was another ten minutes before Erden arrived at his destination, a Chinese restaurant that stood on the left side of the once-busy roadway. The lieutenant was not surprised to see that the restaurant's door was firmly shut, as a result of lack of business; Erden opened it anyway, as M'Quve had assured him that the establishment would be open if his contact was involved. In fact, the lieutenant's contact was the first thing that Erden saw upon entering the building, sitting at the nearest table to the front door. The lieutenant noted that the other man's plate was still full, and mentally congratulated himself on finding the restaurant before he was expected to arrive. "Mr. Perone?"

The man, who had glanced up when the door had opened, lowered his eyes back to his plate. "The boss isn't here," he said. "No reason to be, with no business."

Erden gritted his teeth. "I have business," he insisted, praying that he wouldn't have to report to M'Quve that he had been unable even to meet with his contact.

The man scoffed in between bites. "You?" he asked, before taking a gulp of his wine. "Sovereign Gihren has thrown Zimmand to the dogs; if you have business with us now, it's only to find a bargain before someone else snatches us up. Do you really think Mr. Perone would want to meet with anyone for that?"

"You don't give my employer his due credit," Erden stated, taking the seat opposite the other man without invitation. The man glared at him for his insistence, but the lieutenant ignored it. "You have dealt with him before, and he has given you all due respect. Now that you have come up on difficult times, he thought you would be grateful for his continued patronage. Should I return to my employer and tell him otherwise?"

The man gazed levelly at Erden for a moment before returning his gaze to his food. "Go ahead."

The lieutenant blinked. "What?"

"Either your employer wants to cannibalize us, or he's desperate. You're being polite, so it must be the latter. Go ahead and tell him that our company does not simply jump for the sake of 'respect.'"

Erden leaned forward with a glare. "I'm sure Colonel M'Quve will be most displeased to hear that," he murmured softly.

The man choked, and barely managed to swallow the food in his mouth. His eyes quickly found Erden's again. "You're with M'Quve?" he hissed. At Erden's slight nod, he glanced around warily, even though he had to be aware that they were the only two in the restaurant besides the proprietors, all of whom were safely out of earshot. "Are you out of your mind?" he snarled as softly as he could. "Gihren's got his eyes all over this city! You're bringing the praetorian guard right to our door!"

"If Gihren's men knew who I worked for, I would already be dead," Erden replied just as softly, and hoped he was telling the truth. "Regardless, I'm here now, and I have the colonel's business to discuss. Will you take me to Mr. Perone so that I can do that much?"

The man narrowed his eyes at the lieutenant. "You're not going anywhere near the boss with that kind of stigma," he growled. "Tell me what you want with him, and I'll act as your go-between. I'll be here tomorrow with his response." When Erden began to shake his head, the man added, "Zimmand will not stick its neck out for a traitor to Zeon. Either you let the company protect itself, or you'll get no help at all."

The lieutenant glared at the man, but he was forced to admit that the other's reasoning was sound. "I will tell you what the colonel wants," he said eventually, "but I can't hand over the specifics to anyone other than Mr. Perone. The colonel will not tolerate leaks."

The other man snorted. "That's the risk of doing business." When Erden glared again, he said, "I'll tell Mr. Perone what you want me to tell him, and if you want him to know that there's more to the story than you can say to me, I'll tell him that too. But I can't promise you that he'll care."

Erden frowned and said nothing for a moment. But in the end, he admitted defeat and placed the briefcase on the table between them. Opening it, he said, "I can't give you these things, but I hope that you can impress on Mr. Perone just how important they'd be to his company."

From the briefcase, the lieutenant retrieved a laptop, which he placed on the table before closing the briefcase again and putting it down on the floor next to his feet. Activating the computer, he turned it so that the other man could see what was on the screen. The man immediately abandoned his meal, pushing it to the side so that he could lean over the table to inspect the display more closely. "A Gelgoog?" he hissed, his eyes wide as he gazed upon the data in front of him. "But no… Is this Anaheim's work? What have they done…?" After many minutes of staring, the Zimmand representative glanced up at Erden. "How did you get this information?"

"Our sources have asked for anonymity in this matter," the lieutenant replied. "I can acknowledge that Anaheim and Zeonic have both suffered a serious leak, but no more."

The man turned his eyes back to the design of the altered Gelgoog. "That's the biggest understatement I've heard in some time," he murmured. "I've never seen anything like this in all my years as an engineer. It's a performance model, of course, but the way Anaheim has simplified the internals is absolutely astounding."

"How does it compare to Zeonic's model?"

The man frowned in thought. "I've never seen an original Gelgoog schematic, so I can't give any precise answer. But I have seen the machine in action. In my professional opinion, performance of that kind can only be attained with some very expensive toys. By simplifying the internals like this, Anaheim seems to be diluting Zeonic's formula, rather than improving it."

The lieutenant furrowed his brows in irritation; Colonel M'Quve would not be pleased with a negative report. "So it's a dud?"

"That depends on how you look at it," replied the man, returning his attention almost completely to the data. "The Gelgoog gets its power through its complexity, but that means that only very talented pilots will be able to use it to its full potential. A Gelgoog piloted by the Red Comet, for example, could have won the war on its own. A Gelgoog piloted by a rookie is a steel coffin." The man nodded toward the computer screen. "This design cuts down on the Gelgoog's complexity and power. But it also makes it easier to use. Most pilots would stand a much greater chance of survival piloting this machine, rather than Zeonic's model." The man frowned suddenly, giving Erden his attention once again as a thought came to him. "You want us to build this thing?"

"Not necessarily," Erden replied. "Colonel M'Quve only wants Mr. Perone to get some idea of the competition, as well as some ideas for his next project. The colonel is very interested in acquiring machines that can stand up to Zeon's current and future fleets, and he hopes that this will help you to devise such a weapon for him."

The man shook his head. "I hope your colonel reacts well to disappointment," he said. "Zeon already fields our Dom and Rick Dom suits, and I'm sure that you already have enough of those yourself. The Gelgoog trumped us; we don't produce anything that can compete with it. Our only high-performance model in its league is the Gyan, and that was built with your colonel's design input in mind. No one else would find it useful."

Erden nodded, though he was frowning. "Aren't there any new designs on the table?"

"Not as far as I know, but obviously Mr. Perone would know more," replied the man, shrugging. "If we had material like this to dig through, obviously, that would probably change. Although I think that you want something from this design that it can't give you."

The lieutenant frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I already told you that this isn't meant to be quality work," the man answered. Pointing at the design, he said, "There is very little that we could take from this design that would translate into something on par with the Gelgoog, or even the Dom, for that matter. Those designs were meant for power, but this redesign is meant for efficiency. It's harder than you think to find the balance between those two extremes, and most designers don't bother trying." Even as he said this, though, the man still could not tear his eyes away from the altered Gelgoog schematics. "Despite that, I know Mr. Perone would want to see this. Even if this design wouldn't help you, it would definitely help us."

Erden nodded. "As long as Mr. Perone is willing to help us in return," he replied.


End file.
